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A COUPLE OF years ago while vacationing at Wildwood, N.J., much of the time was spent at a local veterans’ post home and tavern. Because it was a hot, humid afternoon, the cold refreshments were more than welcome as was the usual bar talk and conversation, which led to some notes I took that afternoon. The subject was vacation: preparations, costs, preparing the car for the trip and the like.
The rental fee for so-so accommodations was not cheap by any means, and parking is always terrible. With the price of gasoline today the trip to and from the New Jersey resort is expensive as are the tolls. If you have children the statement of “I have to go” is forever mentioned and it usually means go for an ice cream or cold drink. The car radio spilling out its music doesn’t satisfy everyone, so playing with the radio is an adventure.
No sooner than the vacationers arrive at their destination the kids become all eager to go. Never mind the need to unpack and go to the local supermarket for a week’s supply of essentials — if you can count beer among the supplies. The articles purchased at the Acme Market were usually potato chips, pretzels, candy, taffy, soda, fruits, vegetables, ice cream and other staples such as butter, cold meat, cheese, bread, buns, hot dogs and other such shore necessities.
Even though it might be late afternoon upon arrival, the kids have on their bathing suits and are ready for the Atlantic Ocean and its waves. Try talking them out of their crying and insistence. It just won’t work. Then before the sun has gone down all eyes are set for the boardwalk and the variety of games of chance that line the miles of the boardwalk.
Everything has gone up in price and a $5 bill doesn’t go a long way. Within the hour the kids are back for a replenishment of cash to supplement further games of chance. Then the inevitable happens: One of the kids wins a huge stuffed animal — so big it probably will not fit into the car for the return trip home.
Then when sleep comes naturally, a strange bed, not like the one left at home, is the only recourse. Too narrow. Too short. The air-conditioning isn’t working right. Crying kids waiting their turn to get into the bathroom. And then happy hour or hours, which sometimes drag on into the early morning hours, and can bother fellow vacationers to the point of complaining.
Then it starts all over. Hurry to the sandy beaches and the waves. A dollar Popsicle or ice cream sandwich. Then back to the accommodations for a quick sandwich and a shower and then once again, hit the boardwalk hoping to win big.
On the boardwalk it seems everyone is eating something and that includes the gulls that wait patiently for a kid to drop their slice of pizza or box of popcorn. It’s as if by magic one of those seagulls sounds the alarm and down comes dozens of them to scavenge.
Ah yes, this is the seashore, the home away from home. And how about if there happens to be rain. What does one do with those penned-up kids. It’s like a three-ring circus as they fight for control of the TV remote.
The carrying on is reason enough to pack up the car and head home. How much more can the old nerves tolerate? How can one drive with that huge stuffed animal with its head protruding from a window on the trip home.
Summertime is among the grandest times of all.