We’re not beach people.
My wife and I lived in Orlando for about 8 years. Sometimes, we’d drive over to New Smyrna Beach to eat at a place called Chases. The food was basic but good, and when we finished eating, we’d take a walk on the beach.
It was nice.
But we never went to the beach. We just didn’t see the point. We were like Clark Griswold taking his family to the Grand Canyon in Vacation. We’d stare for a few minutes then say, “OK. Let’s go.” We’d rather go camping and hiking or visit a city and tour old homes and museums than sit in the sand and read a crappy novel.
Well, a few months ago, our 10-year-old daughter started begging us to take her to the beach. “Everybody went to the beach on break except me,” she’d say.
So, we decided to split the difference this summer and drive to Savannah.
We got to the beach about 10, rented an umbrella, slathered on the sunscreen and then —
— and then, it was 4 o’clock and time to pack up.
How’d that happen? Well, it turns out that the beach is a whole different experience when you have kids. We splashed in the waves and built sand castles, and we never once got bored.
On the way back to our hotel, my daughter said, “I want to come here again.”
My wife and I still aren’t beach people, but I told my daughter we’d definitely be back.