Every year when the weather starts warming up, my thoughts inevitably drift toward the beach. I
imagine letting my feet sink in the wet sand by the shore, the smell of suntan lotion (I love it,
don’t fight me on this), and the water.
But then the disappointment washes over me after about two hours into any beach trip. I start
thinking, “This is a little boring, right?”. I don’t mean to be a hater, but there’s only so much lying
on the sand that I can take. I mean, it could have something to do with the people I go with.
I always seem to love the water more than anyone around me. Everyone else seems more
interested in sunbathing, and that’s fine (except I’m prone to sunburns). But what’s relaxing to
most is boring as fuck to me.
That’s not even the worst part, though. It’s the crowds. On the hottest days of the summer,
people get attracted to the beach like moths to a flame. And it is exhausting. I’d like to hear the
beautiful sound of the waves, but the giant swarm of people makes that a little difficult.
That brings me to sand. Why, oh why does someone always kick sand in my face when the
wind is already doing an excellent job of it? It could be a family member, a friend, or a complete
stranger. But it always happens, WITHOUT FAIL! And how I can I forget the sands ultimate
insult: It enjoys going into crevices. You know exactly what I’m talking about. If you don’t, well,
I’ll leave that up to your imagination.
At the end of the day, if the boredom, loud crowds, sand, or sunburns don’t bother you-you’re a
special human being. Well, probably not, considering a lot of people seem to love the beach. I
wouldn’t even say I hate it. It’s just something that’s better as a daydream on hot days.