Lunch With Apollo
I, Geoff, do not like the beach.
I know I may be the odd one with this, but the beach, the sand, the ocean, the heat, the sun, and the sweating, it does nothing for me; except make me hate.
As a young man of the age of 5, I found myself merrily prancing to the beach one early afternoon in late July, during the year one-thousand nine-hundred and eighty-six. Accompanied by my parents I skipped along the soft, sandy beaches of the Isle by the Sea, located within, the Jersey of the New.
With a sand pail in one hand, and a plastic Acme bag full of He-Man action figures in the other, my parents and I settled on the beach one furlong away from the body-cooling water.
Upon my mother completing the lathering-of-the-goop ritual atop my post-toddler skin, I was free to play. Head first, I dove into the plastic Acme bag reaching for the closest figure.
Alas! The Bee-Man figure.
Like a crack laden homeless man searching for a new home, I started to dig, and dig, and dig into the sand. Dry sand became wet sand, wet sand became muddy sand, muddy sand became water, water became China. I could dig no further. Delirious from inhaling so much sand, and the spf 50 sun-block seeping into my blood stream, I did the only thing a crazed 5-year-old could do.
I threw Bee-Man into the hole.
Thinking it would be fun for He-Man and his cronies to find Mr. Bee later in the day, I placed the sand back into the hole.
Having the mental capacity of a 5 year-old I left damn Bee-Man in the hole.
From that day forward, I promised myself never to enjoy the beach again until I found Bee-Man.
I can still hear his horror filled silence as I covered him with the sand.
I know I may be the odd one with this, but the beach, the sand, the ocean, the heat, the sun, and the sweating, it does nothing for me; except make me hate.
As a young man of the age of 5, I found myself merrily prancing to the beach one early afternoon in late July, during the year one-thousand nine-hundred and eighty-six. Accompanied by my parents I skipped along the soft, sandy beaches of the Isle by the Sea, located within, the Jersey of the New.
With a sand pail in one hand, and a plastic Acme bag full of He-Man action figures in the other, my parents and I settled on the beach one furlong away from the body-cooling water.
Upon my mother completing the lathering-of-the-goop ritual atop my post-toddler skin, I was free to play. Head first, I dove into the plastic Acme bag reaching for the closest figure.
Alas! The Bee-Man figure.
Like a crack laden homeless man searching for a new home, I started to dig, and dig, and dig into the sand. Dry sand became wet sand, wet sand became muddy sand, muddy sand became water, water became China. I could dig no further. Delirious from inhaling so much sand, and the spf 50 sun-block seeping into my blood stream, I did the only thing a crazed 5-year-old could do.
I threw Bee-Man into the hole.
Thinking it would be fun for He-Man and his cronies to find Mr. Bee later in the day, I placed the sand back into the hole.
Having the mental capacity of a 5 year-old I left damn Bee-Man in the hole.
From that day forward, I promised myself never to enjoy the beach again until I found Bee-Man.
I can still hear his horror filled silence as I covered him with the sand.
This entry was posted by Geoff, on
Thursday, July 06, 2006.
You can leave your response.
12:31 AM
HOLY CRAP! Someone else that hates the beach?! I thought I was all alone in this world! Believe me, this is a very hard thing to admit from someone who lives in Newport Beach, home of "the OC."
What is there to like? Sand is the worst substance known to man and these idiots want it all over their body? As someone much funnier than I once said, "the ocean doesn't want you in it. that is why it has waves that push you back out!" (I think it was Jerry Seinfeld) Anyway, I support your anti-beach stance.
PS. I'm sorry about bee-man. If it makes you feel any better my bee-man no longer has the yellow see through wings anymore thanks to the dog I had when I was 6.
9:22 AM
Wow, and I thought I had it bad because my future in-laws have a house at the shore. You live there, damn. My favorite part about the beach is lugging all of your belongings: chairs, coolers, umbrellas, and other crap - in sweat inducing heat. Give me a room with a/c and a computer with an internet connection and I am happy.
I'm glad to know I am not the only one. Stand strong, we will win this!