Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Ocean City Vacation: Day 4 - Sunburns, Splinters, and Beach Art

After yesterday's near-death experiences fending off the wild, man-eating ponies in Assateague State Park, Kerri and Tori decided that they would like to spend this, our final vacation day, lounging around on the beach.

Those who know me well know that I do not lounge well.
I lounge even less well on a beach.

I accompanied my loving wife and daughter to the beach and immediately became bored and restless.

"Why don't you stroll down the boardwalk and get us some popcorn," Kerri suggested. We had been told that we simply MUST get Fisher's Popcorn while in Ocean City. Kerri figured that having me walk a mile and half each way for a $50* bucket of popcorn would kill two birds with one stone.

1. We would have popcorn.
2. I would stop being annoying to her and would, instead, be able to spread my annoyingness along the entire boardwalk so EVERYONE could enjoy it.

(* The bucket of popcorn was not actually $50. There was sales tax, too.)

I strolled slowly, as the longer I was strolling, the less time I was lying in the sand, cooking.

I still wonder what possible purpose this 6 inch thick solid steel door could serve. It's probably there to keep rogue ponies off the beach.


A sign at a local tavern.

That same tavern has the shell of a VW bus out front for all the kids and drunk people to climb on.

Barefoot people and jagged, rusty metal? What could possibly go wrong?

A wide selection of t-shirts for all your racist needs.

Now here is an idea I can get behind. Their kids' menu appears to feature cocktails, beer and wine. It's about time somebody thought of the kids.

I eventually did purchase the world's most expensive caramel corn and made my way back to the the beach where Kerri and Tori were happily developing melanomas the size of rusty VW buses.

While crunching across the sand, I noticed that it clumped together in much the same way as some brands of kitty litter claim to do. Unlike the kitty litter, however, chunks of sand could be picked up and carved. (Yes, yes, yes. I know that you COULD pick up kitty litter and carve it, but ewwww. Come on, people. That's nasty.)

My afternoon was officially filled.

I began to construct a Stonehenge of 6 inch tall sand sculptures, each carved with my hands and a tiny shard of broken shell.

This is Tori's sculpture park. She's so cool, she didn't even use the sharp shell. Just her fingers.

Kerri decided that we needed some beach cred, so she made us name tags.

Even Kerri got into the act, showing us all up by carving actual letters.

Shhhh.. Artist at work.

I eventually tired of building tiny sand sculptures and gathered materials for something different.

I call this: Shells; Seaweed; and Seagrass: A Study in Kinetic Translucence
Our plans to start an oceanfront sculpture park were ruined by this pesky thing called high tide.

And, as the sun set slowly in the west and the ocean breezes blew cooler, our day at the beach was over.

We had a fun time in Maryland when we weren't getting chivvied by deadly ponies; attacked by rampaging tumble-turds; developing skin cancer; buying overpriced popcorn; and avoiding rip-tides, sharks and crabs.

Maybe next year we can vacation someplace safer. 

Like in a rusted out VW bus.

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