Look, I know. You're a "do it yourself" kind of person. A trailblazer. Not for you the narrow constraints of the tour guide or the travel magazine. You know what you like and you don't need anyone telling you what to do. OK, maybe with the exception of that policeman. He gets to tell you what to do. But that kind of goes without saying.
Anyway, what you really don't need is someone offering "travel tips." After all, you make your own way. But, admit it, sometimes, in a strange place, you just need a little "insight." Some "guidelines." A little "advice."
Hey, I get it. I'm here for you. And, since I have a journalism degree, which means I'm imminently qualified to tell other people what they should actually be doing, typically while they're knee deep in doing something else, and since I just got back from a mini-vacation Down South, I'm going to help you out should you be considering a similar trip.
So here are my Handy Vacation to the Gulf Coast Rules, free of charge. You're welcome...
Rule No. 1 -- If you're flying to the coast (or, frankly, anywhere else), it's impolite to snicker while the flight attendant demonstrates a function which has been a legal requirement in every state of the union for years, namely, putting on a seat belt. I mean, seriously, is there anyone who can't figure out where that tab goes?
Also, it's probably not a good idea to point out to the crew that, since this plane doesn't have pontoons, it really wouldn't be a "water landing," which carries with it the implication that you sort of wanted to do that. Nope, it would be a "crash."
Rule No. 2 -- Being on the road means you'll be exposed to all sorts of new culinary opportunities. Feel free to dig in. And don't be surprised to find yourself fielding some interesting options. For instance, you may find yourself wondering, "just what wine goes best with this coconut- and sugar-glazed donut?" The answer: something dry and a hint of citrus. Think Pacific Northwest.
Rule No. 3 -- When it comes to vacationing, timing is everything. You'll need to really map your trip out to avoid peak travel seasons at the beach. For instance, May through August is out, because it's incredibly crowded. September is rough, because of the Labor Day crowds. Apparently there is something called "Fall Break," so October isn't your best bet. Snowbirds come down from January through April, and November features a lot of families celebrating Thanksgiving.
So, the optimal time is about three days in December. Which is OK, if you don't mind swimming around ice bergs. Enjoy!
Rule No. 4 -- If you do decide to go the beach in warm weather, what it takes to actually get to the shore line varies. If it's just you and your significant other/spouse (hopefully the same person), it's a pretty simple process. A couple of beach towels, a cooler, maybe a book (something that fits comfortably on your lap while you fall asleep in a beach chair) and you're good to go.
If you're traveling with kids, it's a slightly different story. For them, you'll need a pop-up tent and assorted other umbrellas to supplement the umbrellas and chairs you rented, small chairs to sit in the surf, a cooler with lunar rover-type wheels, kayaks, paddleboards, an inflatable raft, a folding table, a volleyball set, a bag toss set, some lethal-looking rubber footballs, fishing rods, snorkeling gear and enough cell phones to start an outlet mall.
You will do all of this for your kids, who will spend all the time it takes you to carry this down and set it up riding three-wheeled bicycles in the condo parking lot (yes, they rent those, too. The bikes AND the condos.).
When your children do come down, they'll spend about half an hour dropping hot dogs in the sand and throwing seaweed at each other before they get cranky and have to go up for a nap. And at 5 o'clock, you'll have to schlep the entire thing back up the football field-sized expanse of sand, the virtually vertical "stairs of death" and to the sixth floor of your seven-story condo.
And you do that knowing a) you're now going to stand in line for an hour to pay $100 for four hamburgers, and b) you get to do the whole thing again tomorrow.
Rule No. 5 -- OK, so maybe it's not that bad. There are certainly moments, like when you watched the World's Smallest Surfer Dude, a 3-year old with long, flowing hair and a wet suit, try to figure out how the tiny crab kept disappearing down its hole. Or when a balcony full of people in your restaurant stand and cheer the sun finally sinking below the horizon like it was doing it just for them. Or your waiter and you comparing favorite Dave Matthews Band songs because he recognized the DMB emblem on your hat.
Maybe that's the real tip: Go. Have fun. Make memories. You'll forget how much the chairs weigh. That sunset -- you'll remember that forever.
Commentary on 10/16/2015