Beach Rules
July 29th, 2009 - Uncategorized - 10 Comments »
After spending a week in Florida, I can’t help but think that we’re not all on the same page when it comes to social acceptability at the beach. Unfortunately, we cannot depend on a person’s common sense, which is why I feel it is important to compile a list of rules that every beach-goer should have to read before stepping foot on the sand. Here’s what I have so far:
1. The foot-rinse hose is not a shower.
Once the grizzled old woman in front of me was finished hosing off her feet and ankles, I reached out for the hose pass… but it never came. Instead, she took off her watch and hairband, then violently bent over and slowly started washing her upper back and the underside of her hair. As my discomfort grew, I couldn’t help but feel like I was intruding on a very intimate moment. Does she even know I’m here? I just wanted to wash the sand off my feet. When her husband sidled up beside me and asked what I was staring at, I made some hurried comment about the rusted spigots and walked off, deciding a little sand on my feet wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
2. I will kill your football.
Hey Johnny Teenager, if you’re football lands near my son again, I’m going to get out of the pool (yes, actually get out) and stab it several times with that bottle opener over there. Then I’m going to punt it towards that row of Harleys in the adjacent parking lot and blame you when the owners come storming over here pissed off. “Yeah, like I’m throwing the football with my two-year-old,” I’ll tell them. Then you’ll get yours.
3. Yawn at your own risk.
Yawning at the beach is now unsafe. If your mouth is open for more than a second, the dude next to you will have managed to coat your tonsils with the spray sunscreen that he’s unsuccessfully applying to his back (Just point it back there and spray, he thinks). I recommend sporting a doctor’s mask. Sure, the doctor’s mask tan is a little more embarrassing than the sunglasses tan, but at least you’ll be able to taste your shrimp scampi that night.
4. Move.
Hey guy, guess who I don’t want blocking my view? You. I didn’t drive six hours with two screaming children to sit here and watch you unsuccessfully skim board for three hours. I would move my chairs, my umbrella, the 47 toys, the cooler, my four books, my two boys, and the baby pool, but it just seems more practical for you to relocate. Oh, and I’d stick to body surfing if I were you.
Please, add to the list.
___
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There should be an age limit on who's allowed to wear bikini's on the beach. If you're 70 years old, and your over-tanned, leather skin is dipping past the waist band of your swimsuit, it's time to invest in a one-piece…maybe even a long t-shirt.
And men–speedos are NEVER cool….unless you're wearing one as a joke. And even then, it's only acceptable for about 10 minutes…after that, it's creepy.
Pretty much anything that makes other people stare or say, "whoa–what the…" as you walk by, is unacceptable on the beach…
Aerosol sunscreen is the worst invention ever. The cons SO outweigh the pros. I'd rather eat a sand sandwich than breath in Coppertone 45. Seriously. If you like it so much spray it on at home.
How about the personal space rules? We have a whole beach to share and you park your backpack 2 feet from my chair . . . Please go away. I haven't wanted to meet new friends at the beach since Senior week and Lynard Skynard is not my idea of good music.
If you are starting to resemble my leather purse more than a human being, please take a break from your sunbathing and sit under an umbrella. I really don't want to watch when a hard wind blows, sending your skin into a smoldering pile of ashes!
I love the intense skim boarder who loses 10 pounds of sweat for roughly 36 seconds combined of fun. I almost don't want him out of my view because you know there's going to be a time when he bites it and you just got yourself enough enjoyment to last you the rest of the week
If you have to pee in the ocean, that's fine. Just make sure the water level is above your waste band before you start leaking. we all can tell the difference between ocean water dripping off your shorts and a steady stream of hot, yellow urine.
can we add a "No Boom Box" rule? I didn't spend my first born's tuition on the flight and spray-on sunscreen to come listen to your regaeton (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reggaeton) blasting from your silver boom box you got on sale at the thrift store.
And if you even try to play Creed I'm officially throwing you and your boom box in the ocean.
How about a "No Cars" rule. I didn't go to the beach to worry about getting hit by drunk teenagers and rednecks. This would possibly tie in with the "No Boom Box" rule.
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