The reluctant beachcomber
Trip Start Sep 04, 2010
49Trip End Sep 30, 2010
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OK, I'll grant you this, he said he didn't want to go. "What will we do there?" he'd asked, way back in Birmingham. "Well, it's the beach," I answered, "you've always loved the beach. Your Dad loved the beach. The beach is where you GO, when you have a minute to spare!"
I told him about the many summers his Dad spent at Gulf Shores with his Papa and Mama, fishing, drinking Mountain Dew all day long, living high in the camper bus, later the Gulf Shores Trailer, it was The Life.
Okay, I said, let's check into our motel. We ended the day with dinner at the Crab Shack, some right tasty shrimp, well that's some cheer, at least. Everybody else is blond and tanned, sundresses and sandals, no northwest moss between their toes. Pretty southern girls abound, and fat old guys in checked shorts. Truth be told, I don't like the glare myself, or that sticky saltwater feel. But it's a pretty place.