Why I Hate The Beach
Hey, Chelsea Stuart here – Jetsetter's resident beach-hater. You read that right, but I'll say it again: I'm not about fun in the sun. If that's a sentiment you simply can't process, allow me to share my best anti-beach insights.
I hate the beach. Despise it, actually. While I used to think this was an unpopular opinion — back when my mom dragged me to little old Hampton Beach for endless 8-hour days — it turns out I’m not alone. Lately, people have come out of the woodwork to tell me they have the same "issues." Let’s clear one thing up though – I absolutely love traveling. My idea of a dream vacay just happens to be more of the strolling down cobblestoned European streets, latte in hand, gentle fall breeze blowing through my hair variety. So while I’m not here to convince you to hate the beach, I’m speaking to those who feel my pain.
Sand gets on everything and its presence is basically as permanent as a tattoo
It’s in your hair, it’s stuck to your butt, it’s between your toes and when you go to adjust your sunglasses, BAM it’s in your eyes (forever scratching your cornea). Not to mention that when it comes time to leave, no matter how many times you make trips down to the surf to wash off your sandy feet, it’s impossible to trudge back up the beach and all the way to your car without collecting at least a bucket-full of seashore along the way.
Beaches are glorified landfills
Yes – white sand, immaculately-kept beaches do exist (and we have plenty of stories on them, if that’s your thing). But chances are, your casual weekend beach romps are to run-of-the-mill stretches with garbage of every variety. We’re talking napkins, cigarettes, dried up seaweed, empty soda bottles, broken buckets and pails, and plastic bags galore.
Seagulls (Need I really say more?)
I don’t know about you, but being dive-bombed by a seafaring rat with wings whilst trying to eat a sandwich is not part of my R&R routine. The squawking demons have become way too comfortable around people, assuming ownership over whatever food beach-goers have lugged through the dunes in a wheelie cooler, and that’s not ok.
Sunburns are inevitable despite copious sunblock reapplication
Ask any pasty person and they’ll probably have tall-tales of horrific sunburns gone summers by. SPF 30, 50, or even 100 is no match for the sun’s piercing rays, and no sunhat seems able to cast a wide enough shadow. Save for wearing a head-to-toe wetsuit, sunburns are just part of the awful package.
People pee in the ocean like it’s their job
I know that the ocean is massive and constantly moving, but that doesn’t make me any more accepting of the fact that thousands of gallons (I’m assuming) of pee are just being whooshed around willy-nilly.
Touching seaweed is revolting
It’s slimy, it’s smelly, it’s creepily always wrapping itself around your leg when you’re swimming. And god knows if you’re beaching it with friends, they’re throwing it at you every chance they get.
Getting a parking spot is harder than getting a 2400 on an SAT
If you’ve ever been the designated beach driver, you know what I’m talking about. Circling parking lots and side streets in an awful game of cat and mouse; forcing your friends to hop out at a moment’s notice when you see someone start their car, all in an effort to bum-rush the now-vacant spot before the car in front of you can claim it.
Crowds are infuriatingly unavoidable
Just like theme parks, malls and Times Square, the beach is always crawling with far too many people. Lounging beach towel to beach towel with perfect strangers isn’t what I’m about. Nor is having their potato chips blown across my blanket when a particularly strong gust of wind catches them by surprise.
There are only so many things you can do (and all of them get boring)
Trash, seagulls, sunburns, and seaweed aside, the beach is just straight up boring. For some of us, there is no appeal to tanning, reading isn’t worth compromising our eyesight (as we squint away behind sunglasses that just aren’t cutting it), and swimming simply isn’t an all-day affair.
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