It was a sunny afternoon a few weeks ago when Amanda suggested we go to the beach. She does this from time to time and it makes my heart sink nearly as much as a restaurant that only serves “small plates to share”.
So I change into my bathers while complaining on a loop. Then, like all good 7 year-olds, I put on my long-sleeve rashy. Rashies have become compulsory for me since a doctor said my skin had reached the limit of radiation it could bear. I’m a redhead, so I presume the amount of radiation my skin could bear has always been none.
After the rashy goes on, I slather the exposed parts of my body with sunscreen before collecting a large pair of orange builder’s earplugs which will hopefully stop me from getting Tropical Ear. They’re not pretty, but my ear canals retain water and I get Tropical Ear every time I swim without them.
When I arrive at the beach, I’m confronted with the same thing I’m always confronted with - a whole lot of beautiful heads turning towards me in slow motion - frowns falling across their healthy, tanned faces. I know what they’re thinking. It’s “Dude, you shouldn’t be here. This place is not for you. What are those orange things sticking out of your head?”
But I’ve got bigger problems than the ridicule of people comfortable in Speedos because I know when I get into the water, I will be intolerably cold. You see, what most of you find temperate, I find freezing. So when I eventually step into the perfectly mild Pacific Ocean, I behave like I’m stepping into a bath full of snakes. I pull faces, make undignified noises, and wonder why I torture myself like this.
Amanda’s already body-surfed three waves into shore before I finally condescend to put my head under. The rush of cold is a shock. I think I’m going to go into cardiac arrest and then…
… the experience suddenly turns magical. I catch a wave, and I think I’m the happiest I’m capable of being. My problems fall away and it turns out the beach is a wonderful place. Those cool people who looked at me with scorn were wrong – I do belong here!
Eventually, the wave that’s been carrying me peters out and I stand up with a dumb grin, checking to see if my orange earplugs are still in place. I’m about to head back into the deep in search of another wave when a bunch of lifesavers urgently usher us all in. Seconds later, I’m among 30 disappointed swimmers who are told they can’t go back in the water for at least half an hour. Someone asks “Why?” And one of the lifesavers simply says: “Shark.” Shark? Fuck! And exactly where had they seen this shark? Well… it was last seen frolicking a couple of metres away from the red-headed dude in the rashy and orange earplugs.
I felt a chill. I was relieved to be alive. But I wondered why the shark hadn’t finished me off. It occured to me that maybe it hadn’t been hungry. Maybe it had just swung by to a laugh at the swimmer whose skin had reached the limit of radiation it could bear.
The temperature has dropped in the last few days and I’m feeling that summer is coming to an end. I’m kind of relieved. I will go to the beach again. And hopefully with more enthusiasm. But right now, I’m enjoying a break from things that can kill me, or worse… that find me moderately amusing.
MY BATTLE WITH THE BEACH
You had me laughing out loud in this one. You are right. Apart from the moment of catching waves, beach is shit. Don’t get me started on sand ...
Absolutely loved it Adam, so good to laugh. Also I’m with you regarding swimming. My idea is on lilo floating from one end of a pool to the gin & tonic & biscuits at the other.