Over spring break, I went to South Padre island with some of my best friends and had a relaxing yet tiring and loud vacation. Mostly the latter two. We stayed at a condo on the other side of the beach and never even stepped foot on the sand— the closest we got to water was a pool, hot tub, and algae-filled bay water.
Now, we had plans to go to the beach and become one among the mosh pits and crazy college students partying, but there was a mutual consensus as to why we didn’t end up going.
One, sand gets everywhere, in places you don’t want it to be, and it will be an (unwanted) souvenir to take home.
The Gulf of Mexico is almost always cold.
The water isn’t crystal blue, it’s murky gray.
I don’t like stepping on shells or the salty feel of my hair after the beach.
I’m scared of getting stung.
These are just a few thoughts that enter my mind as I consider going to the beach, though I don’t hate them completely. I love warm weather and swimming, maybe it’s just Texas beaches that have no place in my heart.