Living in Vacation Land

This weekend I attempted stand up paddle boarding for the first time solo. Tyler set me up on a board from the marina he works at and sent me on my way with the guess that there was an 80% chance I would end up accidentally in the water. Rude.

Early in the morning is the best time to paddle around Wrightsville Beach. There are still too many boats but once I got off the Inter-coastal Waterway there was a stretch where I was all on my own. At first I was preoccupied with how I didn’t seem to be moving anywhere and how my legs kept shaking from trying to keep my balance. Finally I noticed how quiet it was. I couldn’t hear anyone talking or boats passing. It was just the sounds of water, birds and my oar ineffectively gliding through the water.

Okay, so I'm not that bad ass... but I do remain standing!

Okay, so I’m not that bad ass… but I do remain standing!

As I looked out over the houses and boaters I could see in the distance, I realized when you cross the drawbridge you enter the heart of vacation land. It’s a world where people are constantly saying things like “Who cares, we’re on vacation!” when referring to activities like drinking alcohol with breakfast and eating multiple doughnuts.


I don’t understand how anyone actually lives in Wrightsville Beach (unless they’re independently wealthy). How could you get up in the morning, iron your work clothes and head to real life with everyone vacationing around you? Each time I spend quality time at the beach sitting on the sand, cruising the waters on a boat or paddling around the sense of total abandon is strong. Nothing else matters. But when you cross the drawbridge you feel yourself cross the barrier. You’re back in real life now. Traveling home from your vacation may only take 15 minutes but you lose all that freedom and remember only the chores that await you at home.

Oh vacation land, how did we live without you before?



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