Warning: this post very well may offend some people – particularly if you love The Jersey Shore (which many, many people do, particularly around where we currently reside). Please just skip reading this post if you’re a JSL (Jersey Shore Lover).
Despite the fact that we love the beach and it is the closest ocean/beachfront to us, we’ve only been to “The Shore” a couple of times (note: around our parts “The Shore” refers to ‘The Jersey Shore’). One was summer of 2007 when the boys were Meera’s age (click here). Another was in March of 2010 (click here). Both of those experiences were pretty good, but neither of them were on a weekend at the height of summer. We’ve always been too afraid to attempt a day at the beach in New Jersey on a weekend at the height of summer. It has a reputation. Not a good reputation. We were scared off. And for good reason.
That all changed this past weekend. We were motivated to go, and we went. To make a long story short (we had plans with good friends from Delaware to meet at the beach to spend the day together, one of their kids got sick and they had to back out, and we J-Ms decided to go it alone)… we spent Saturday (during a heat wave in the middle of July) at Sandy Hook beach on the coast of New Jersey.
One thing we learned: despite our valiant efforts to be glass-half-full/optimistic/bloom-where-you’re-planted/make-lemonade-out-of-lemons people in all circumstances, after our experience Saturday we could not find a way to put a positive spin The Jersey Shore (i.e., we are not always positive-happy-rainbows-and-unicorns people). Another thing we learned: despite our deep desire to not be snobbish about our love-affair-with-the-beach, we have – whether we like to admit it or not – become terribly spoiled rotten where all-things-beaches-are-concerned (i.e., after Turks & Caicos, Virgin Gorda, Anguilla, etc., and most recently, South Carolina… it is impossible to not feel a bit turned off by the contrast of those places with The Jersey Shore; it is sadly true that not all beaches are created equal and once you’ve walked a gorgeous white-sand-turquoise-water beach with nobody but your loved ones in sight, it is pretty hard to keep your chin up as you set up your umbrella amidst thousands of others all within just inches of each other on a not-so-postcardish-strip of designated-swimmable-seacoast). Within five minutes of arriving, Kyle was asking to leave (seriously). Meera wanted absolutely nothing to do with the “dirty rough water” (her words), and struggled to make due with the coarse and grainy sand. Owen was beyond miserable about the state of the horse-fly infestation and was totally annoyed by the fact that I wouldn’t let him eat raw the mussels he kept finding (he was also compulsively obsessed with picking up people’s cigarette butts and kept pointing out to us how many people were drinking beer out of cans). Braydon and I tried hard to make it work but finally admitted to each other that we basically thought the whole thing was just kind of gross. We put our best foot forward. We really did. But by lunchtime we were all very ready to call it quits and head home. We were so glad our friends weren’t there, because it meant we could just pack up and leave when we wanted to… which was much earlier than we’ve ever left any beach anywhere ever.
The day was still fun in a lot of ways— an adventure that we could bond over (our communal discovery that we really don’t like the Jersey Shore); a road trip (all five of us love a road trip); an excuse to let the bambinos eat Oreos and an opportunity for Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for Braydon and I; and a lot of food-for-thought which prompted many deep and important conversations over the course of that day and the days that have followed.
All in all, though, it was just sort of deflating. And more than anything it reinvigorated us to get planning for our next grand beach vacation—wherever that may be (we’re just sure it won’t be in Jersey).
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