#34: Ocean-side

You know what day it was a few Saturdays ago? It was OCEAN DAY!!!! For the first time in three years, I got to go see the ocean. It was the number one thing I had wanted to do since moving here. (Besides be with Sir blah, blah, blah.)

We had to get up at 6:30 on a weekend to do it, but, all-in-all? TOTALLY WORTH IT. Even so, I was dragging my ass as we packed up the car. We had decided just to go out to the beach for one day, but there was still a lot of crap to remember to take: sunblock, sandals, towels, something to change into after the beach, extra make-up to touch up the spots the humidity would inevitably melt away, water, etc., etc. We managed to pack my poor little Jetta full and still had to turn around three times for things we forgot.

From here to the beach, it's between a two and three hour drive. I excitedly babbled the whole way, incessantly asking, "Where's the ocean?" "I want to see the ocean!" and "Are we there yet?" Sir found my excitement very cute (because I am, duh, incredibly adorable) for the first 30 minutes or so. Then he got plenty of practice rolling his eyes at me. (Just wait until we have kids, my darling. Bwahahaha.)

We hit some traffic as we neared the island where the beach was. A gigantic draw bridge was letting some huge barges through. It was incredibly frustrating to me to be stuck, in a car, sooooooo close to the ocean that I could smell it, but still not be able to see any water. Plus it was about 95 degrees outside and 110% humidity and Sir had all the windows down. And it was noon and I hadn't eaten lunch yet.

We waited at that bridge for so long that the carload of people in front of us found time to get out of their cars, walk up to the bridge and watch the boats pass.

Now some people might tell you that at this point I began to get a little cranky. But I tell you that all I wanted was to get to see the ocean. And maybe get a hit or two of the air conditioner. And eat. But that's it.

We finally got to cross the bridge over the cape to the little beach island. We drove from one end to the other, with about 3,000 other wanna-be beach visitors, looking for a decent parking spot, and then any parking spot, and finally some place where Sir could just push me from the moving car onto the beach so I could just see the DAMNED OCEAN ALREADY AND STOP WHINING!

After driving around and around the five streets of the island, we decided that maybe this beach wasn't for us, and I decided that eating had suddenly become my top priority. We wanted to check out the historic district of downtown Wilmington, because supposedly it was really quaint. Though right at that very moment, hot and hungry and extremely frustrated with the lack of ocean-seeing this trip had so far produced, I could have cared less about how historic or quaint anything was as long as someone got food into my belly.

The maps we had of the area weren't great. Only one of them had the historic area marked, but we couldn't figure out where here was, much less how to get there. Under normal circumstances, I think Sir would tell you that I am an above-average navigator. However, at that moment, I was too busy growling and sweating and being agitated to really give a shit about where he was going.

We went down one road for two or three miles and when I didn't recognize where we were on the map, I made him turn around. We went in the other direction for two or three miles and realized that the road was going to take us back onto the island. We turned around again and headed down a different road, only to end up going in a large circle. It was nearing 1:30, I hadn't eaten, it was so hot my butt was sweating, and I HAD NOT SEEN THE OCEAN YET. I told Sir to take this next turn, and we ended up on a road we had already driven down. Twice.

"Where exactly are we going?" He asked, frustrated.

"IF YOU WANT TO FIGURE IT OUT THEN BE MY GUEST SINCE I'M OBVIOUSLY CRAP AT DOING THIS JOB!" I screamed and chucked the map directly at his head.

We rode in silence for a long time.

Sir just drove, taking random turns this direction and that. The force was strong within him, because as I pouted and looked out the window, I started seeing signs for "Historic Downtown." I gathered all of the civility that was left in my starved, melting body and quietly pointed out the signs. We followed them and, about 10 minutes later, were driving through the cutest east-coast downtown I have seen to date.

The old brick buildings looked like there were from the late 1800's and some of the streets still had cobblestones. There were old music shops, florists, and dozens of original clothing shops. We parked the car and walked along the street that ran right up against the water of Cape Fear. All the shops had widow boxes and flowering trees and plants sitting outside and there was a nice breeze next to the water.

The longer I was out of the car, the more I could feel myself unclenching. We found a steak and seafood restaurant on the waterfront and managed to get one of their tables on a private balcony. It was still hot outside, but how often do you get the chance to sit on your own private balcony? Plus, the waiter was pretty good about keeping our water and soda glasses full.

We ate a leisurely, light lunch and listened to the jazz music drift our way from a festival across the cape. We walked around the boardwalk and decided we would head south to a different beach instead of going back to the tiny little island we had been to before. This turned out to be the best decision we had made all day.

After being well-fed and convincing Sir to turn the A/C on in the car, I was feeling much more amiable. Sir and I were back to our cuddly, loving-on-each other selves (Ew! Gagg! Gross!) and now I had just one more mission to complete for the day. The beach.

We rolled into the town of Carolina Beach around 3pm and found ourselves a parking lot. As I tried to figure out how to change into my swimsuit without having to touch anything in the grimy public restroom, a man offered Sir his parking ticket, which was good until the next day. Score! Free parking!

We flip-flopped up the boardwalk and the roar of the waves banished any more remaining banshees from my insides.

The beach was amazing. White sand, plenty of room for us to spread out and relax. It was still hotter than sin, but a nice breeze managed to rouse itself every time you felt you were about to spontaneously combust. Even the ocean water, once a wave or two smacked you in the face, was warm enough to enjoy.

We stayed on the beach, swimming, sunning and building sand castles, until the sun started to set, then reluctantly shuffled our way back to the car, picking up seashells on the way.

After deciding to leave a snooty-ass Italian restaurant after they chided us for being dressed like we had (shocker!!) just come in from the beach (even though we had changed, me into my sundress, Sir into shorts and a tank top), found a seafood restaurant called Big Daddy's where our attire was deemed appropriate. There wasn't really anything special about this place - it had screaming children, mediocre food and service - but the name still makes me crack up, so I figured it was worth mentioning.

After dinner we went to the local movie theater and saw Cars and drove home. The salt from the seawater made my skin tight and itchy, I wasn't sure I was ever going to get a comb through my hair again and every time I licked my lips, I tasted salty - but, settled into the car, on the way home to my own bed, I was so pleased to just... be. The ocean was only a car ride away. I had seen it with my own two eyes, played in the water with Sir... and we could go every single weekend if we wanted to! Un-freaking-believable. I felt so lucky in that moment to be where I was. I looked over at Sir n the driver's seat, and promptly nodded off.

Per. Fect.

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