Bitchy, I Mean, Beachy Thoughts, Part 2

Three days ago, my beach vacation was sunlight and sand and warm ocean water.

And then it wasn't any more....

The many "scattered" and "isolated" thunderstorms that have skirted around us all week have dropped trou on us.

Wednesday, we were downtown by the harbor, trying desperately to see a ginormous, ocean-going, cargo ship (okay, that was ME trying desperately; the other three in my group could care less and do not understand my boat fetish). We were on a pier that had an excursion boat and restaurants and such, and as I looked down along the channel, I could see that, approximately 3 blocks away, it was raining onto the water. A woman who worked for the excursion boat came up alongside us at that time and announced there was a waterspout where the rain was falling, but it was dissipating. 

Two things about that:
1. Call it a waterspout if you will, but it's still a tornado, and those of us from Joplin get a little twitchy when told there is one only about three blocks away.
2. Upon hearing it was a waterspout, my daughter proclaimed that was how the sharks fell on the land in the movie "Sharknado" just as raindrops the size of saucers started falling on us, and we scurried to the car.

The rain had stopped by the time we reached our motel, but the day was over halfway over, making it silly to pay $25 to rent an umbrella and chairs on the beach, so we looked for shells instead. It's a terrible year for finding shells.

A rather sketchy bunch moved into the room next to us, and they TOOK OUR CHAIRS from in front of our room. We were pretty convinced one of the men had a prison-made tattoo (that coming from the two Orange is the New Black fans), so no way were we going to ask for the chairs back.

I sunburned the tops of my feet in a perfect flip flop pattern. Even though it was so faint that I couldn't detect it, I seem to have gotten some sun on my feet whilst wearing flip flops. That pale flip flop line then burned when it was exposed to the sun. And yes, I had put sunscreen on the tops of my feet before going out.

My boobie sunburn is now peeling. While I cannot feel pain (good thing) or the opposite of pain (not a good thing), I CAN feel itch. What up wit dat? 

I was aware there had been an influx of seaweed this spring and early summer, but there's always SOME seaweed at the beach. It hasn't been that bad, actually, although there are piles of it rotting up against the seawall, giving off a sulfur smell (odor - it's an odor; "smell" is too nice of a word). Early Thursday morning, my husband and I got up early to walk on the beach and watch the sunrise. We crossed the seawall and saw a bank of seaweed that stretched across the shoreline. (Seagulls, the rats of the sea, were having the times of their lives on that seaweed.) There was no wading in the shallow waters as the surf rolls in. The water was rough, pitching and churning, and there were dark clouds and thunderheads to the south and west. We walked on the soft sand, the wall of seaweed between us and the water. Not the same.

Worst invasion of sargassum ever. EVER.
Record breaking. Historic. 

Since Thursday was to be our last day at the beach, we planned to spend every bit of it at the beach.

Problem #1: A wall of seaweed over two feet high
Problem #2: Rain. Wind. High surf. Lightning.
Problem #3: Did I mention the seaweed?

We walked over to the beach. The wind was so strong off the water that my son could play frisbee by himself. He took a camp shovel and dug a trench through the seaweed to the water. YES, IT WAS THAT HEAVY AND THICK. Then he wheedled and begged me to look for shells with him. He helped me through the seaweed canyon he had forged and into the water, the formerly warm water but which was now quite cold and where the seaweed that was washing in immediately started wrapping itself around my ankles. It was scratchy and made my ankles burn and itch. The water was so churned up by the high surf and storms that I couldn't see my feet, which freaks me out. The seagulls were all over the place, soaring above us, sitting on the seaweed wall, wading in the water.

See how high that wall of seaweed is?
For perspective, the college boy is nearly 6'4"

A raindrop hit my shoulder. Or so I thought, until I didn't feel any MORE raindrops. I looked at my son and said, "Is their seagull crap on me?" He looked, grinned, and confirmed. One of those assholes had crapped on me. I scooped up water in my hand and threw it at my shoulder while my son kept telling me I had missed the spot. 

Asshole.

I slogged through the seaweedy water, buffeted by the high winds, my ankles burning and itching from the seaweed, seagull crap somewhere on my bathing suit strap where I couldn't see it, and no shells, when I informed my son that I was DONE. We walked back to my husband and daughter, taking the route through the soft sand rather than the water (I SAID I was done and I meant it). And we gathered up our towels and blew back across the seawall to our motel. And I got in the shower in my swimsuit and doused myself with body wash, paying particular attention to the vicinity of the seagull crap.

Face of someone who will go home from
five days at the beach with no tan lines.

The only good thing about all this is it will make it easier to leave tomorrow. Besides that, I have a TERRIFIC adventure up my sleeve for the trip home. Stay tuned....