This Ain’t Your Mama’s Jersey Shore

I’ve been living in New Jersey for —stops to check imaginary watch on left wrist— nearly two years now, and this past Saturday was the first time I set foot on a beach. Fact. Princeton is not terribly far from the coast, but I never really felt the need to go so badly that it was worth the hour and a half to two-hour drive. What can I say? I’m from the Midwest and don’t particularly like a lot of direct sunlight for prolonged periods of time (how I survived 4 months in Orlando is anyone’s guess).

Two co-workers and I packed up and headed down the Jersey shore to the town of Ocean City, NJ, a dry beach just south of Atlantic City with a kicking boardwalk (the kind you traditionally think of when you hear someone talk about a boardwalk; not the casino-laden planks a few miles north of us). Oh, and banish that image of The Jersey Shore from your head. As I just mentioned, this is a dry beach (however, that didn’t stop us from sipping mimosas from the inconspicuous pineapple cups on the left…we’re classy broads).

I had forewarned my co-workers that I probably wouldn’t be able to stand the heat all day and if the sun was out in full force, I’d invest in a giant umbrella, put on my fedora, and sit under it most of the time with my book (yeah, I’m that girl). Luckily for me, it drizzled for a while and was partly sunny with temps hovering in the 80s. I did go in the water for a little bit—my first dip in the Atlantic since 2006 when I was living in Orlando. In case anyone is wondering, the water tastes the same.

Despite epically losing at a game of mini-golf, I came away from the grand day at the beach unscathed: the sun didn’t scald me and I didn’t buy anything neon. Though I can’t say I wasn’t tempted…a neon green tank top branded with some bizarre Jersey shore graphic would have been great to run in.