Mind, none of these observations are empirical; they’re just the drifting thoughts of an aging idiot at Ocean City circa July of 2015.
There are now more trim and apparently obsessively maintained male physiques than female ones on the beach nowadays. Progress or pathology? Both.
Black-headed, red-beaked laughing gulls have taken over and, if possible, they are bigger assholes than the herring seagulls. Smaller, faster, meaner, but beautiful. Like carjackers from Abercrombie and Fitch.
Everyone employed on the boardwalk seems to be under 18. Some who aren’t seem psychologically under 18, perhaps with some pharmacological assistance.
Lifeguards seem more on top of it these days. I’d rather have a slightly anal retentive, jumpy lifeguard than a lax one. Kids hate it, though.
There are more black people here than in the past. Not just on the beach, in the water. And I just heard an African-American kid off to the left playing the ukulele — and well, I thought.
There’s also a lot more people with ukuleles.
All the good seashells have been snapped up.
Funnel cake on the boardwalk does not taste like it used to in my halcyon youth. It now tastes like funnel cake everywhere else.
The chamber of commerce at Ocean City New Jersey seems remarkable effectively at combating large corporate chains. I think there’s only one Starbucks in town, and it’s at least a good five or six blocks away from the boardwalk.
The water is warm, shimmering, and chocolatey at the breezy end of a long, hot day. Of course, that’s when the lifeguards reach the end of their shift and try to squeeze you out of their beach in an ever-narrowing arbitrary sector of permissible territory and activity. It’s like playing in a garbage compactor on the Death Star.
I saw lots of selfie sticks and even a drone during the Fourth of July fireworks. Thankfully, it seemed little tykes still watched, and enjoyed, the actual pyrotechnics. I didn’t see any toddlers filming the horizon with their iPads, yet.