Why I Hate the Beach: An Anti-Beach Manifesto

It’s hot outside now which means sooner or later, you, me, and other innocent civilians are going to be invited to the beach. We’re all expected to adore the beach, yet there are those of us who suffer silently there. We hate smearing ourselves with lotion in preparation for entry into a hostile environment. We hate when our hair is tousled by a never-ending windstorm. We despise the unrestrained children who kick sand everywhere. We pray for a quick death when someone violates our aural space by blasting Jimmy Buffet.

But this summer shall be remembered as the moment in history when those of us who don’t care for the beach stood up to make our grievances known.

Let’s think about the beach for a moment. What is it? It’s a pile of tiny shards of rock and coral near an enormous body of salt water that cannot sustain human life. Everything about the beach screams, “don’t come here because you might die.” That’s why beaches have lifeguards. Beaches are so inherently opposed to human existence that they require the presence of someone whose only job is to make sure that other humans don’t perish.

What is there to do at the beach, other than avoid skin cancer? You can go into the ocean. But what’s so great about the ocean? It is a massive body of water that has the nerve to be undrinkable in a world with so many thirsty people. It is an entity that literally hurls itself at you as you enter it, as if to say, “what are you doing?! Get out! You can’t breathe in here!” It is home to an endless variety of unthinking mutant creatures, some of which might attack or devour you. As Werner Herzog once said, “What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

Some posit that it is fun to read at the beach. There is even a literary genre, the “beach read,” devoted to this concept. Yet the beach is openly hostile to enjoyment of the written word. The sun, with its relentless glare, is no substitute for the electric light bulb. The relentless wind enthusiastically scatters book pages like a craps player tosses dice. The ceaseless chatter of beach-goers makes concentration difficult, if not impossible. Thus, a good “beach read” is a book that can be understood without recalling the contents of entire chapters. It is a frivolous form of entertainment designed to give us something to hold and stare at, lest we ask ourselves exactly what the hell we’re doing out here on this goddamn beach.

And then there are the crowds. The huddled masses yearning to play Frisbee in a public place that is obviously overcrowded. “Oh, sorry,” says the guy wearing a Skrillex t-shirt who knows damn well that sooner or later his plastic disc will go flying into someone’s face. And no matter where you sit, no matter how carefully you select your territory, you will always wind up next to the most annoying person on the beach. You can pick up your shit and move but then you’ll realize, to your horror, that every person at the beach is the most annoying person. And of course someone will remark that “it’s beautiful out,” because what else can one possibly say about the beach?

The public’s unhealthy obsession with the beach most nefariously manifests itself in the idea of the “beach body.” Human beings manipulate the shape of their bodies for the purpose of looking appealing to a crowd of strangers. “How do I look in this bathing suit?” people ask. “You know we’re all going to die, right?” is the proper response.

When people feel an irrational urge to leave their house, they go to the beach because it seems like a safer option than the certain death that awaits hikers and kayakers. Unlike most outdoor activities, enjoying the beach requires no skill and very little effort. Showing up is the entire battle.

The beach is the natural habitat of philistines who reject the Internet and air conditioning so that they can tinker with sand. I saw the best minds of my generation trying to build “cool” sandcastles knowing full well that before long the wind will sweep in and murder their creation, causing it to disappear into nothingness. The beach does not care about our dreams or us. It is our natural enemy.

And so let us meet enthusiastic suggestions that we go to the beach with the resounding, unbridled “meh” they deserve. Beach, don’t kill our vibe.