It’s about that time again; the shoobies are gone and the locals reclaim the beach from the likes of barfing, fist-pumper idiots who strew litter and don’t tip.
Here are some handy tips to help you make the most of your beach basking:
1. Never trust a beach umbrella. They’re shady.
2. Seek shelter during thunderstorms. Florida, with the longest coastline in the contiguous (that means attached) United States, is the LIGHTENING STRIKE CAPITAL, people. This doesn’t mean you have to puss out and go home over a drenching downpour..but when you hear those angel booty’s clapping, it’s time to run for cover and get yourself a cocktail tan.
3. As with all things sweaty, wet, gritty and fun, wear protection! You only get one skin! Unless of course you’d like to have patches of your ass scraped off to cover the crater that will surely develop on your face if you don’t wear sunblock. And I only care that you’re a Native in that I’m sorry we made yourchief cry with littering (I cry, too!), but you still need a little SPF. These are the sub-tropics. Duh!
4. Don’t litter. Leave the beach the way you found it! No, those Corona bottles won’t become a crustacean castle for stone-crabs and those cigarette butts are not palm tree seeds, jackass, they are toxic waste that harbor thousands of dangerous chemicals. I wonder how many cigarettes that grouper you had for dinner last night swallowed. Mmmm mmmm….have another fish taco, asshole. Make it a menthol.
5. Don’t tread on me! Exercise enthusiasts love the beach and that’s all great, and though I could do without the ball-snuggie swimwear that seems to be the official uniform, I can live with it. What I can’t live with is a face full of sand. Where I come from, runners (we didn’t have one of those cross-country skier guys back home) stayed along the beach break, close to the water. They didn’t try to navigate the maze of blankets and chairs and run through the thick of it. And just because I’m laying down and looking lazy doesn’t mean I can’t run faster than you, you greasy, sand-spewing prick. I’ll catch you and slingshot your ass into traffic with that Speedo! The only consolation I get is that besides exfoliating my face and blinding me, you’re flinging a fair amount of sand into your own crack too, with every trot, but you probably like that.
6. The birds don’t need YOU to feed them. I cannot stress this enough. One of my favorite sayings is “I’ll be on that like seagulls on a french fry.” There is a reason for this. As much as chirping gulls can be a beach lullaby, swatting seagulls that want to get their talons on my Laspada Monster is not the kind of Angry Birds game I want to play. The more they are hand fed, the more daring they become and they will snatch your, or worse, MY lunch in one fell swoop. Seriously. I’ve witnessed it. And as your neighbor at beach chair 5-feet-to-your-right, I don’t appreciate you increasing the odds of the bird you’re feeding crapping on my towel or on me. Go ahead, feed a bird near me and just see what Jersey girl public service message I treat you to. I dare you.
We’re lucky to live in such luxury that we are completely lined with beach to the east and while there is plenty of room for everyone, be considerate and stuff these little tricks in your beach bag, have fun, be safe, tip your bartenders and only fist-pump if you’re slamming a volleyball.
Beach out, peeps!