Weathering it

Much to the collective chagrin of vacationers at Ocean City, New Jersey, the weather was highly uncooperative on Independence Day. Gray clouds? Wind? Rain?! How unpatriotic! Like good Americans, JG’s family and I grumbled about the inclement conditions and the resulting lack of fireworks and then had our fill of traditional July 4th goodies, like margaritas and taco dip. Because nothing says, “Happy Birthday, America!” like Mexican food.

The spate of gloomy weather was even more significant to JG and me because we arrived in Ocean City on July 3, which left us with only three days to spend on the beach. I woke up early on the morning of the 4th and watched the sky progress from dark gray to lighter gray; there was no perceivable sunrise, which was not a favorable omen when you are going for hot and sunny. JG and I ate our breakfast donuts and watched the clouds in between solving crossword puzzle clues. Surely, the dark weather wouldn’t last past lunchtime.

Now, I am not at all a beach person. The feeling of sand between my toes makes me feel gritty, waves of stinging salt water always seem to buffet me so that my eyes burn and my mouth fills, sunscreen makes me break out, and I hate sweating, which is pretty much all I do while I bake in the sun. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the actual beach time as much as JG was, but the sight of the beach after lunch was a letdown, even for me. On the busiest day of the summer at Ocean City, there was a mere smattering of folks set up on the sand. The sky was an ominous shade of gunmetal and the wind was so strong that birds flying against it simply hovered in one place, as though on a midair treadmill. The lifeguards were huddled on the stand in bright orange, nylon coverall-type outfits, not looking at all ready to plunge into the ocean. We planted our chairs in the sand, suited up in sweatshirts and baseball caps, and hunkered down for the long winter. I mean, the afternoon.

Two hours later, I stood up. I had woken up with a start from a restless nap from the feeling of sand berating my face and feet. Whenever anyone stood up, walked away, brushed off anything, or flicked a towel, sand was thrown into wind and inevitably hit someone. From the incessant shower of sharpness on my two square feet of exposed skin, it appeared that I was a sand magnet. I had had enough. It was time to give up. I was the first to retreat into the indoors, but the others soon followed. I simply had the advantage of the first hot shower.

The next day was equally dismal and my endurance was correspondingly short. I didn’t see the point of subjecting myself to discomfort – nay, misery – when I could curl up inside and be significantly more relaxed. Wasn’t that the point of this vacation? Or something?

Thankfully, our last day turned out to be beautiful and sunny. JG and I headed out to the beach early and were the last ones to head back up to the house. He did his best to squeeze a week’s worth of sunshine and beach games into one packed day; I snapped as many pictures with backdrop of blue sky as I could. The previous days’ overcast skies were such a contrast to Friday’s clarity and we couldn’t have had a better day if we had placed an order. Maybe our order came in a little late, that’s all.