Not a Day at the Beach

Last weekend, we made our first foray into New Jersey for a long weekend in Atlantic City. Literally following in the massive wake of Tropical Storm Ernesto, our first day at the beach was anything but. High water blocked several roads, and some hotel parking lots on the bay side were literally under water. Debris from trees lay scattered about, and the huge nylon sign overlooking the front entrance of a Quality Inn hotel cracked lazily in tatters in the wind. Pretty impressive for a storm that was supposed to have been only a "remnant."

Like usual, my brother in Wilmington, NC, suffered a direct hit, so I'm sure these photos don't impress him. But in upper Mid-Atlantic, this is rare stuff.

Of course, being in the North East, there has to be some measure of overlawyered absurdity thrown into this display of nature's fury. I'm lucky to have fired off the few photos I have posted here. Mere moments after I walked onto the beach, I was accosted by a member of the local fun police who told me I was not permitted to be there because it was "too dangerous." Thanks, mom. As you can see from the photos, the water boiled furiously beyond the beach, but only a moron would be stupid enough to take a dip in that cauldron of chaos. Anyway, I was clad in blue jeans and a fleece vest, not a candidate for a swim. The only danger for those of us with our wits might have come from getting a piece of flying sea foam in the eye. Big bubbly tumbleweeds rolled atop the sand here and there at the whim of the remaining wind. Not exactly the stuff of nightmarish accidents.

Nonetheless, and despite pleading that it was and is communist and absurd to tell a person that he cannot go on a public beach with dozens of yards of open sand left between the dunes and the beach because of "danger." Please. But there always has to be some government lackey to tell us what's advisable for us to do. Good old fashioned common sense won't do anymore. Heck, the better policy is, if you're stupid enough to try to get in the water, you're on your own buddy. They could even post a sign to that effect.

I took a couple photos and was ushered away, fuming. I get the feeling more and more these days that maybe the Soviet Union did prevail after all and we're just slowly edging into the same government heavy abyss. Then again, I'm a lawyer, so I shut should up. What credibility do I have when my profession is giving the public hardest shove over that ledge?

The final day of the weekend turned out to be the best of the three. Ernesto finally a distant memory, the sun a current companion, and the breeze just right for a prototypical "day at the beach." I ran in a sandy five mile race along the just retreated Atlantic at sunrise (placed a pathetic 129 of 170) then joined the family for what would be our four month old son's first taste of the ocean. What could ruin such a perfect confluence of circumstances?

You guessed it. The good old fashioned government tax collectors. Want to enjoy nature's bounty on a state beach in New Jersey? Apparently, that privilege will cost you a cool $5.oo per person.

Arrggghhh!

Karl Marx is smiling in his grave somewhere. I knew there was a reason it took me this long to venture into New Jersey.