Close

The close to our beach trip aligned in perfect symmetry with the entire weekend. We had a fantastic morning. We felt good when we woke up, we packed quickly but not hurriedly, everyone made it out without feeling rushed, and the keys were in the drop box almost an hour before required.

We mostly said our goodbyes at the hotel. Shoobs and I were on board for some more rest on the beach, but the rest of the crew was less enthusiastic about driving home covered in sand. Shoobs drove a block over to park the car (silly) and I walked over to meet him. Up we carted our handful of gear, down the stairs, and settled in to our spot from Saturday under the umbrella. Shelby walked a while to the right. Then I walked a while to the left. We sat a few more minutes and were just convincing ourselves it was time to leave, find a shower, grab some grub, and put our perfect little beach vacation to bed when some old hag waddled down and put her chair on the sand beside us.

“Is there a reason you decided to put yourself in front of my house?”

Verbal daggers launched from both sides, and it was vehemently determined that we would not be leaving for quite some time. If we had been in their furniture, or had been literally placed at the foot of their beach access stairs, I could have understood her position. But we were placed on a public beach that is lined with oceanfront rentals, none of which have sole ownership of the sand and water. She was being miserable.

A bit of time had passed (who the heck can tell time on vacation) and rough and tumble dude comes traipsing down the stairs. He wouldn’t even come down off the platform but proceeded to shout at us from where he stood.

“Sir, ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to get off my property.”

Oh really, public beach is your property? After some additional exchanges of wit, Shelby finally shouted at him that he was more than welcome to call the police. And again it was decided that we would be staying put.

More time passed  and I finally decided that I had had about enough sand, water, and sour grapes so I put on my best pouty face for Shoobs, telling him I was ready to go whenever he was. He let go his grudge, kissed me sweetly, and started to take down our umbrella while I folded the towels.

And then dude come hurtling down the stairs again, shouting at as more!

“Dude, can you not see us packing up? We are leaving. You do not need to talk to us anymore.” And some other choice words I will not include so I can continue to pretend  for my family that I know no swear words. 😉

So, that was an awesome encounter before we sat in a car for three hours covered in sand, smelling like sweat and sea water, and Shelby with the tiniest hint of a burn.

But we survived. Bad attitudes will not ruin the beach! Ever!

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