I'm Covered in Sand
Part of the joy of living at the beach is, well, the beach. In our case, we live 15 minutes from the beach. Sometimes we drive an extra 10 minutes to find our favorite access point; depending on the day, it’s worth it. The only time I tend to question the drive is during peak season when tourists are around.
Believe me when I say I love tourists who frequent “our” beach. The vast majority of them are nice people, in a great frame of mind, just happy to be with friends and family experiencing the natural wonders of our little slice of paradise. And let’s be honest – they bring in A TON of cash to support the local businesses that we frequent year round.
One of the negative impacts of tourists is traffic. It’s not as bad as, say, the handful of visitors each year who do not respect the dunes – which basically hold the entirety of Topsail Island together – and others who don’t quite grasp the concept of carry-in, carry-out when it comes to trash. But the traffic is the real issue when it comes to tourists, as the pure number of weekly vacationers and day trippers literally clog the roads and bridges.
As locals (no, we do not live ON the beach but we frequent it enough so that we are considered locals) we have figured-out days with heavy traffic to avoid, and days and times when we can access the beach without a major kerfuffle. Tuesday evenings are a good example, and this past Tuesday my wife and I made some sandwiches, grabbed some libations and headed out for an al fresco dining experience after work.
If I may digress for a moment, it is great to be able to use the phrase “after work” again. In April of this year I was laid-off from my job due to COVID-19 and its impact on businesses and the overall supply chain. Thankfully, I was recently able to secure a job with a successful (and growing) established local company doing what I love – writing – on a full-time basis. Ironically, a great deal of my writing is about COVID-19, the infectious disease that cost me my previous job. Go figure.
So after work this Tuesday we headed out to our favorite beach spot, which did entail the extra 10 minute drive. This is a pleasant drive, down the spine of Topsail Island, from Surf City to Topsail Beach. The only bummer part is the potential of tourist traffic, as previously noted, but this was a “clear” day so-to-speak, traffic-wise and with regard to the weather. Beautiful blue sky, some fluffy white clouds here and there, a slight breeze. Perfect.
Right after I turned to head down to Topsail Beach, I got behind a large white pickup truck. Although the speed limit was 35, this driver was pretty much hovering in the low 30’s, without anyone in front of him. The driver was male, with his arm casually draped out the window, and he had a passenger. I could see the driver turning his head left to look between houses out toward the ocean as he drove, occasionally slowing down to take in the view. He had a wide array of stickers on his rear window and bumper connoting certain passions and interests, and was carrying a wide variety of surf rods.
Although he had North Carolina plates, I somehow marked him in my mind as a tourist. After all, a local would know that you can easily go 40 in this zone without any traffic and not have to worry about being stopped. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he rushing to get where he was going? Most importantly, why was he keeping me from getting to my favorite beach spot?
As my frustration grew, I made a snide comment. My lovely wife did not say a word, did not validate my observation. Her silence was effective, in that it gave me a moment to let what I said rattle around in my head as I took a mental step back, thinking for a moment about where I was and what I was doing.
I quickly apologized – to no one in particular – for what I said, correcting myself for getting upset for, realistically, no good reason.
The rest of the drive was much more pleasant, albeit an extra five minutes longer. We got to our spot, set up our chairs, and began to enjoy our meal.
While we were sitting there, we both noticed the wind picking up a little bit. It kept getting stronger, blowing the top layer of sand sideways at us — not too hard so that it stung really bad, but definitely getting in our chairs, sandals, cooler, etc. I even had to use my thumb to cover the top of my beer. Tragic!
We were laughing, commenting on the wind when my wife lifted up her arm and said, “Look, I’m sugar-coated!”
Obviously, she could have complained or otherwise looked at things from a negative perspective. Instead, she viewed her circumstance through a prism of joy.
I looked down at my feet and lower legs, and noticed they, too, were sugar-coated. I started thinking about my journey of the past few months: losing a job, dealing with a global pandemic, watching social strife play itself out across the nation. At the same time, I thought about getting a great new job, how the pandemic brought my youngest son home from New York City for a great visit while riding out the storm, and how we live in a country where dissent can lead to positive change.
Is life rough and irritating? Yup. Is life sugary and delicious? Definitely.
It’s both.
And I’m loving it.
