Beach Bum

We spent four glorious days at Wrightsville Beach this past weekend, the longest we've had the luxury of staying. Despite capricious weather conditions, we enjoyed every moment and yearned to stay indefinitely.

We arrived about 10:30 Wednesday night. It rained most of Thursday, but we took that as an opportunity to loaf around in the cool, quiet condo and catch up with True Blood on HBO On Demand. Friday was sunny, so we sat outside all afternoon sweating our asses off in the sun. We consumed a sumptuous meal at 22 North, where you pretty much can't go wrong with the menu. We attempted to go out drinkin' but got bored and sleepy after one drink, giving up and going back at 11:30. Saturday was absolutely perfect—sunny, warm but not stiflingly hot or humid like the day before, with a gentle, cooling breeze, making it feel like May in the Caribbean. After watching Watchmen on HBO, we headed out for drinks shortly after midnight, and managed to have two rounds before getting pizza and going back to the condo, where we ate pizza in bed and watched Reality Bites until 3AM. Sunday morning brought rain, but it cleared up by the time we made our ritualistic pilgrimage to Dockside. We managed to get in a little more beach-sitting until it began to drizzle again, so we decided to get a head-start on packing up. Having gotten that out of the way, we had an early supper at Tower 7 and some Kohl's frozen custard, then mournfully departed at 7:30.

Oh, how we longed to stay there forever! Everything is so relaxed and life is lived at a slower pace down there. We amble along practically everywhere instead of jockeying for position with other motorists. Restaurants and retailers are within easy reach. We can drink til our livers fail and then stagger back to the condo, picking up the state's best pizza on the way. And we think not a moment about jobs or bills; we leave our troubles on the mainland.

One more major part of our beach experience, I have to admit, is the condo itself. The little 3-bedroom efficiency feels like a breath of fresh air—everything is clean, cool, quiet, and full of light. The living room glows in the morning as the ivory-colored walls radiate the rising sun. The huge floor-to-ceiling windows flood the room with sunlight and bring in the sweeping vista of the sapphire sea. The air conditioner blows cold and strong, providing a cool refuge from the blistering Carolina summers. The soft white wall-to-wall carpet feels great on bare feet and dampens noise. The living room furniture is all lightly-colored—yellow chairs, teal sofa, natural wood bookcases—and littered with mementos of the sea. A model sailboat here, an old barometer there, a lamp from a PT-109, a complete set of Time-Life's The Seafarers series, all bring the ocean right into the room. A visitor instantly feels energized and at peace simultaneously as soon as he crosses the threshold.

So of course, this latest extended visit has resurrected my interest in simulating the beach look at our main residence, coinciding with an endowment of funds for my recent birthday from relatives. Ordinarily I would have gone out to Brooks Brothers or purchased other luxury items with the intention of impressing others, but I decided it's more important to make my home, where I spend half my waking hours, a peaceful refuge. I've already procured calm blue striped curtains for the entry hall and guest bedroom, and a natural white cotton slipcover for the drab old sofa is on the way. Painting some of the living room furniture white may be in the near future, and some light curtains are a certainty. We'll wait and see how the cactus-green walls look with the renovated furniture before we decide to repaint. I wish to freshen up the formal dining room as well, but can't really figure out how. New seat covers, maybe, and perhaps a casual tablecloth. The yellow walls could stand a change, being an odd transition between the cool gray & blue entry and the blue & white kitchen. I've got to get one of those antique wall barometers. I'll probably forgo the white plank paneling in the entry hall, since the new curtains seem to have helped tremendously. Perhaps after all this, we'll feel at least some of the same tranquility we do at our favorite place on Earth.