This one’s a no-brainer for me. I’m a beach man for sure.
Wife is a beach woman. You’ll have to take my word for it; she doesn’t want any of her beach photos floating about on the internet.
Ace is a beach girl.
Cdawg is a beach lad
G$ is still a pain in the ass. He actually preferred the pool, but he’ll learn.
The whole family enjoys the beach. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a family vacation anywhere but to the beach.
Sitting in the sun for days with the family is heaven to me. The sand, beer, ocean, beer and seafood buffets and beer are all we need to be a happy clan.
Mom and dad were not planners. I think they mostly just decided “Hey, what do you say we leave tonight and go to Florida next week?” And that’s what would happen.
Mom would get a triptik from AAA (go Google that young people, it’s a pre-GPS thing), a cooler and a bag of snacks and that was the extent of the planning.
We’d drive the 12-18 hours through the night and start looking for places to stay once we got there.
We’d drive from hotel to hotel until we found one that was within what I assume was a predetermined price range and that had a vacancy. It normally only took three or four tries, and I distinctly remember this being a nuisance for my dad.
Now that I’m the driver, I understand what his beef was. JUST PICK A PLACE TO STAY!! After driving all night, a person just wants to get some sleep.
One year was a little hairy (insert funny bikini joke to suit your taste here) because we were in Daytona during the Fourth of July celebration and vacancies were limited.
Still, there were enough mom and pop type motels or Howard Johnson’s back then that we were able to find a place every time.
You’ve never traveled in comfort until you’ve ridden in the chilly night air in the back of a pickup truck for 15 hours. A few years of that in a row sucked, but it was much better once dad finally sprung for a top to cover the bed of the truck.
The cold night air in the back of the truck was a step up from riding five deep in a Nissan Pulsar. Yeah, five of us rode several times for 15+ hours in a tiny compact car.
Three boys in the back seat of a Nissan Pulsar getting pissed off at the others anytime somebody’s legs would touch or their arms would cross the imaginary boundary line must have been a treat for mom and dad.
“Mom, he’s touching me! Mom, he’s crossing into my space on purpose! Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom!!!” What a clusterfuck!
Thankfully, and I never thought I’d say this out loud, we have a minivan.
Is it pretty?
It’s missing a hubcap and there are three kids and nine years of mess all over the interior, but she’s functional.
She’s never let us down and there’s plenty of space for everyone to ride without anybody’s legs having to touch.
All the mom and pop places seem to have been replaced by huge multi-condo units that you have to reserve in advance. The chances of landing a decent room for a week without planning ahead have diminished greatly.
I like getting to the beach as soon as possible upon reaching the Sunshine State anyway, so fiddlefucking around looking for a place to stay would just aggravate me unnecessarily.
We’ve rented condos in advance the past several times we’ve gone on vacation, many times sharing the unit with another family or our own kin folk. This can be dicey, but we’ve had pretty good luck not wanting to kill anybody we’ve vacationed with, mostly.
I don’t think momma would go for just driving to the beach with no destination in mind anyway.
I guess I also like knowing we’ll have a place to stay once we reach our vacation spot as well, and missing out on beach front lodging would suck. That happened a time or two with mom and dad’s half-assed travel method. Some traditions can be pretty easily pitched aside, and hoping for a place to stay upon reaching the beach is one of them for us.
I’ve never been snow skiing and don’t understand why anybody would intentionally go someplace cold to vacation. I get that skiing or sledding or snow boarding can be fun, but getting your ass back up the hill seems like work.
Getting three kids bundled up in snow gear also seems like work. It’s all we can do to
wrestle the boys into water wings, let alone having to get them into thermals and coats and mittens, etc. Just the thought of it is making me cringe.
Drinking cold beer in the freezing weather with gloves on doesn’t strike me as being all that fun.
Having to bring the kids inside every hour because they get cold doesn’t strike me as being all that fun.
Skiing drunk into a tree and breaking my neck doesn’t strike me as being all that fun.
While I’m sure it’s fine for some people, and I appreciate people who don’t enjoy the beach staying away so it’s not as crowded, the snow isn’t for us.
No, for the DOAT clan, the beach is the place for us.