I know you think this is a pun, or like a play on words or something cool like that, but it's really not. It's really about beaches. Those sandy things that are attached to water of some sort- usually containing large amounts of salt and stuff. Just from that description, it would be hard to understand why people actually like beaches, because that just sounds plain boring. Never fear though, the sand actually feels nice and malleable underneath a fluffy beach towel. The saltiness actually makes the air smell fresh, and the waves methodically hit the shore and make this soothing kind of light cracking noise. Basically you all want to go to a beach now, right? Well, so do I dang it.
However great all this sounds, I personally have to remember how much beaches don't really like me. I can remember going to one when I was very young- probably about four or five years old. I had picked up a stick, and decided it would be a lot of fun to drag it behind me and make lines all down the shore. You know, where the water just barely laps up onto the sand and makes it kind of damp? Yeah, there. Well, I had failed to take into account the presence of seagulls and how inconsiderate they are. Before I knew it one had left a nice little present right on my shoulder and another on the tip top of my head- Don't worry, my parents caught it before I decided to investigate.
Then, when I was around eight years old, I had another opportunity to go to the beach. This time, I actually got in the water because it was warm enough to splish- spash around in, and I went out with my dad into the deeper waves. I could barely stand up on my tip toes and keep my head above the water, so I decided to abort mission and go back to water that was a little more shallow. So, as I was walking back along towards shore, I felt my feet go out from under me right as a wave began to crash over me. I knew this would be bad. I was caught under water in this sick, twisted cycle of water in the face, feet over head, water in face, feet over head. I thought I was going to legitimately drown and die. Luckily, once again, my parents came to the rescue, but I was spitting out salt and water for the next half hour at least.
When I was eleven years old, we went on a trip to the east coast, and I once again got the opportunity to swim in the ocean. I was so excited to erase that whole swimming in the ocean is equivalent to imminent death debacle that happened when I was eight. So, my sister and I went out and played in the water, and then ran out and played in the sand, and then back out to the water. After a little while, I started noticing a little extra weight in the crotch area of my suit. So, I mean, I wasn't an idiot- that happens, sand can get caught all in your swimsuit, so all you had to do was brush it out, right? Well, I tried that, and it would NOT come out no matter what I did. I decided to do the whole shrug your shoulders thing, and go play some more. So I did that whole pattern thing again: play in the water, play in the sand, play in the water, play in the... Okay. Something was definitely wrong. I was thinking to myself "This is so embarrassing. This sand WILL NOT come out, and I keep getting more and more!" So, I went to my mom, and told her what was happening. She told me: "Oh honey, if you just go out into the water, and clean your suit out, everything will be fine." I still listened to what my mom told me to do at that point, so I ran out to the water, and did all I could to try and get that sand out. I even did whirly-dos and flips in the water hoping that would dislodge some of the sand. It was to no avail, but I did not want to miss out on fun play-time experiences, so I played again with my sister in the sand and water for what I would guess was another twenty minutes until I couldn't take it any more. The crotch of my suit was bulging a good three inches from my skin. Let's just say, it was very uncomfortable, and a little more than mildly embarrassing. So, I ran to my mom and told her to look more closely, and grab the sand and see if SHE could get it out. Right when she touched it, she started laughing hysterically: "Hannah, it looks like you have a sand penis, I'm sorry, it's not funny." That got my dad going, and then my sister- who was too young to understand why she was laughing- started laughing because both our parents were. It was TRUE. I looked like I was a girl with man parts! I HAD TO get out of this suit. I booked it to the van, and my mom followed to try and see what the problem was. I stripped down and handed her the suit, and she was giggling as she inspected it. There was a good couple pounds of sand in the crotch of my suit, and everyone on the beach had seen it. I was wondering why people were looking at me so funnily. You know why it was doing it? Collecting the sand? There was a small hole in the liner of my suit, right in that area, and the sand was getting packed in there because of the waves. ARE YOU KIDDING? That was awful.
The last time I was on a beach was when I was sixteen years old, and my parents decided it would be really cool to take a family vacation to Padre Island, Texas. We road tripped down there, and as soon as we got there and got situated in a hotel, we hit the beach. I mean, that IS why we came. So, we walked out to the nearest expanse, and set up our towels. We played in the water for a while, because it was pleasantly cool, and felt nice on our hot skin. After a while, we all began to get sore throats from all the salt that was in the water, so my mom suggested that she and my dad go on a short walk, and my sister and I lay out and talk. So, that's what we did. As she and my dad were walking away, my mom casually yelled over her shoulder: "We'll only be about a half-hour at the most. Stay out of trouble!" Well, it was really hard to get into trouble on the beach, or so we assumed. We were just laying on our towels talking, and looked at our phones, and noticed an hour had passed. We felt really hot, and I noticed my sister's head was getting a little red. So, we thought: "Maybe if we get in the water, it will cool us down, and we won't feel so hot." It worked for a little while, but then we were just beginning to feel more and more hot, and our skin was getting really sensitive. So, we retreated back to the towels, and realized we needed shade and quick. As we looked around, we couldn't really find anything- apparently you had to pay for shade, because it was no where to be found. Luckily, a couple got up from under an umbrella, and we raced over to take their spot. Once our eyes adjusted, my sister and I realized we were in bad shape. Four hours had passed and our parents still weren't back, and we were BURNED. I don't mean like a little brushing of red, or a little splotchy area on your face in shoulders, I mean like whole body red and throbbing. Right around that time, we looked over to the direction my parents had walked off to, and saw their silhouettes slowly trudging towards us. They looked exhausted when they reached our confiscated umbrella, and almost collapsed under it. Apparently they had gotten lost, and thought it would take a lot less time to get to the other end of the beach, and now we were all severely sunburned. We walked back to the hotel, and inspected the damage in man-made light. It was extremely painful to remove clothes, but we did and rubbed Aloe Vera all over each other and tried to lay in bed. It hurt wherever our skin would wrinkle a little bit, which was in every single movement. The next day, we all had blisters that would make anyone uncomfortable, and had to wear a lot more clothing than we would have liked to. About a week later, when I was home, the whole top layer of my face peeled off- in one solid piece. Gross, huh.
So, anyway, that's that. Those are my only experiences on the beach. I mean, yes I always had a great time initially, but ... well, we will just leave it at that so we can end on a positive note. Oh, and if you want to take this as a play on words, that's true too. I love everyone, even the beaches.
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