Photo used under Creative Commons from commons.wikimedia.org
As soon as the semester ended, I packed up my bags in hopeful anticipation for the summer that was before me. Like many other students I geared up for my first internship in the working world.
However, my summer is turning out to be a little different than most. I decided to take an internship in the heartland of the blue crab, the oasis of the senior weekers and the home of the boardwalk fry. As I sit here typing, I’m also staring out onto the busy streets of Ocean City back dropped by the gum-laden boardwalk and imported palm trees.
The glum, murky, weather at home made me all the more excited to move into my new house “down the ocean.” I packed the cutest tanks and my jean shorts had just the right number of holes. I also packed a hanger bag full of big-girl clothes for my internship, so I wouldn’t get fired on my first day. There was no turning back, once I crossed the threshold of the Bay Bridge.
I would love to sit here and tell you that the warm coastal sun instantly kissed my pale skin into a goddess’ glow and that I am now wise beyond my years, rich with adult-life experiences. Unfortunately, that is not the case.
My stay has been very lonely so far. The drastic change between chilled wind and blistering heat has left me in a funk, with a room-clearing sickness. I have to tell people, “It’s just a cough, no need to scoot down to the end of the bus bench.” I like to tell myself it is a metaphor for the initial shock that comes with being thrown into the real world. I’m just wondering when these deafening coughs and explosive sneezes will subside so that I can be a normal, contributing member of society again.
A wise man once said “the ocean is my only medication.” Maybe that was a biased Jimmy Buffet but I think he had the right idea. So I rolled my congested butt out of the office and played a quick game of Frogger across the Coastal Highway before waddling onto the sand. The warm rays and misty salt water began cleansing my sinuses in a way that compelled me to write Jimmy Buffett a thank you letter. That thought didn’t last long before I fell asleep next to a group of parent-less teens. Yes, I clutched my bag while I slept.
While I felt better, the sharp UV rays won in a way that I was not particularly prepared for. Is that a lobster crawling down the beach? Oh, no, wait that’s me.
Even though my summer at the beach is not starting out the way I had hoped, I know I have to pray this is not the end all, be all. Independence is like a good, deep sunburn. It may sting a little at first, well maybe a lot, but after some time and TLC it will eventually turn into a solid base tan that will serve as the building blocks for a successful adult life. Just don’t forget the aloe.
