Note to anyplace in New England that has Atlantic beach
access: Summer ends September 22nd. Not Labor Day; not the first day of school;
Sunday the 22nd. Got it?
After some particularly sucky days at school due to all
kinds of ridiculous and unnecessary crap, a coworker and I decide to head to
the beach after work. The thermometer
registers the temperature outside at 98 degrees, and the heat index is hovering
around 104.
We come to school well-prepped: we both brought bathing suits to change into
under our work clothes after the kids leave, and she packed beach chairs in her
car. Our intention is to be sitting on
the beach in Nahant by 3:30. After all,
it's broiling hot outside, and Nahant has a large but inexpensive parking
lot.
We drive through Lynn (Lynn, Lynn, the City of Sin, you
never come out the way you went in -- that
Lynn). The GPS sends us on a roundabout
journey, and we spill out onto the road near the far end of the beach. A short ride down the road and over the
bridge and we should be all set.
I said, we should be all set.
Until we realize that the entire parking lot for the beach
has been shut down for construction.
Dudes. Really? It's
still summer. These state workers
must be the same kinds of people who take their air conditioners out of the
windows because it's August so summer must be almost over.
Listen up, people. It
gets hot in September, sometimes even in October. Hell, sometimes it's this bloody hot in
April. Maybe you want your air
conditioners out because you figure you'll outsmart Mother Nature, but for the
love of gawd, could you please not shut down the beaches to those of us who
know and understand the scientific reality that summer is still going strong
until the first snowflakes fall.
We park my friend's van illegally, convinced by a parking
attendant at the nearby restaurant that we should "probably be okay
there" as long as we pull the vehicle well onto the curb and as close to
the hulking young tree as possible. She
checks on the van a couple of times and asks the young man if he would be so
kind as to shout from the back deck onto the beach should the tow truck arrive.
Ninety minutes later, my friend slips the kid $5 for helping
us park semi-legally (okay, it was completely illegal, but still) so we could
enjoy what will probably become the last hurrah of beach season. Probably, but maybe not. The summer is still young. There are a few more days before the seasonal
change takes place, and then there's always Indian Summer.
Damn. It's good to be
us. Bring it on, Mother Nature. Like you, we're not ready to let go of summer
just yet, either.
