Why I Hate The Beach

Beaches are often viewed as the prime example of ‘paradise.’ The ‘Relaxing Getaway Vacation’ billboard comes with a photo of white sand, blue sky, and blue-r sea. Nothing says a holiday like relaxing in a tropical paradise, tanning your worries away, right?

Except no, I really cannot stand the beach. Instead of relaxing me, it stresses me out. Instead of looking forward to the beach, I end up working myself up into an apoplexy thinking about how much I hate it.

And when I bitterly spit out my opinions on what is my idea of hell, I am always met with the surprised exclamation: “How can you hate the beach?! Why don’t you like it?!” So surprisingly different is my opinion from (at least of those I have encountered,) the majority of people, is that I now feel required to type out and explain the reasons why you will have to drag me, pay me, or bribe me, before I set foot on sand.

(1) Sand is a stupid bitch. Dry? It gets everywhere. Nowhere is safe. It will work its fiendish way into your electronics, rendering them useless. It will sneak, if you are stupid enough to wear them, into your close-toed shoes and remain there forever. Wet? It will get everywhere and stick to everywhere. It will get in your swimsuit, in your hair, on your feet. It will, over time, dry, and as we know, dry sand is just as dumb as wet sand. It will come home with you. You cannot escape the inevitable: upon finally arriving home, you will deposit what seems like half the beach into your house. Every possession you brought to the beach has been afflicted. Your drains are clogged with mud. Wherever you step, you will feel them; the minuscule particles that never go away.

(2) The sea is also a stupid bitch. Sure, the sea is at least, a way too cool off from number (3) Despite this, I will always, always prefer swimming in the comfort of a man-made, tile-bottomed pool. And why? Because of precisely the fact that it is a man-made, tile-bottomed pool.

The sea is natural. Residing within it, are a plethora of natural things. I remember fishing in the sea, (not sure how this came to be,) once in Australia, and a stingray swam by - this was before Steve Irwin's death - and it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen. In nature, however, there is the good, the bad, and the gross and dumb. We have all done it: you feel a slimy tentacle wrap itself around your leg and you scream bloody murder, it's a kraken and you are going to die. Your kraken turns out to be a piece of seaweed and you suddenly feel really stupid. (Feel free to replace with 'plastic bag' and 'jellyfish,' or substitute with the feeling of 'What the fuck did I just feel?')

Perhaps even more awful, however, is when you get out the water: salt water is awfully fucking sticky. And then, the water cycle has to bust in and help: the process that is evaporation leaves, of course, bloody salt particles all over (a) you, and (b) your hair. You are walking around with salt in your hair and it looks disgusting and I hate it.

(3) I hate the sun. Yes, it is the most important part of life and everything revolves around it. Whilst it provides energy to everything is the reason everything fucking works, it also has the side-effect of baking you into a crisp. As someone who both tans and burns incredibly easily, I have to manage two difficult situations: how to dress so no one can see the ridiculous compilation of different tan lines I have acquired, (what the hell was I wearing to create this shape on my back?) and getting yelled at by my family for using up all the sunscreen.

(4) The people there. Where are all the attractive people that were promised to us on the advertising billboard? Why is it that, instead of spending my day on the beach playing frisbee and volleyball with a bunch of fun, cute people that I've just met, I am consoling a stupid crying child because I accidentally stood on their stupid, (it was ugly anyway,) sandcastle?

Then there are, of course, the people who don't seem to be aware that other people can see them. If you're at the beach with your friends, they may, depending on what you find amusing, be a source of entertainment. I remember as an innocent nine year old, having my eyes scarred by a very tanned man in a neon green thong-type-thing. This was enough to send us into peals of laughter and we eagerly shared and recalled this story for the next few weeks because it was so funny and inappropriate.

Whilst it may be funny or entertaining, some of these questionable attires just are downright eyesores. You can close your eyes and turn away, but at the end of the day, you are always going to remember that neon green thong.

So there we have it: why I hate the beach. Why, when I hear the words 'Sand, sun and sea,' I think not of paradise, but of punishment. Why I will turn down your invitation without even considering for a second: at least I won’t be the one with sand all over my shit at the end of the day.