I’m not much of a beach person. In fact, in the 6 years I’ve been living in Los Angeles, I can count the number of times I’ve been to the beach on two hands. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I have low tolerance of heat and sun, but also because I get a little OCD about being sticky or dirty, meaning that wet sand drives me crazy. However, I *love* napping. Last week, someone finally explained to me that people don’t go to beaches because they enjoy being hot and getting sunburnt…they aim for a nice (not overly hot) day with a cool breeze and the sun shining down to nap in peace, sometimes getting wet in the ocean and letting the sun dry them off. I realized that I may have completely missed the point of the beach, particularly the opportunity to nap with the sound of the ocean in the background, so I thought I would give it another try.
I set out for the beach on Sunday morning, but since Reggie wanted me to drop by Houston’s for lunch, I decided to stay close to Santa Monica. I walked to the Pier, aiming for the crowded area just north of it that people seemed to enjoy. Right off the pier in the sand were rows and rows of small wooden crosses. On closer inspection, it was the Arlington West Memorial for the soldiers who have been killed in Iraq. There are thousands of crosses, some with pictures and handwritten notes from friends and family members. As you approach the memorial, there are large boards displaying pictures of the thousands of soldiers killed, like a massive laid-out yearbook. The sheer number of them is staggering, and the fact that some of them looked like they should have still been in high school was devastating. As I was looking out at the symbolic cemetary, a couple of Chinese tourists walked up next to me. One girl asked the other one in Chinese why the U.S. was fighting in this war. The other girl said, “It’s what they’re always doing. They like to fight wars.” The first girl asked, “Why do they keep fighting even when they can’t win. They just send all these people to die.” The other girl answered, “It’s in their nature. It doesn’t make any sense.”
On the left are postings of articles and pictures of soldiers who have been wounded. They say that they ship in the wounded soldiers in the cover of night, housing them in VA hospitals that are off limits to media. There are pictures of young men with missing arms and legs and eyes…one guy had burn marks on his face that so badly disfigured him, you couldn’t tell his age or ethnicity. Many of the pictures were accompanied by text detailing the soldier and his story. One soldier who lost a hand and suffered damage to his legs, describes a smoking object flying into his Humvee as he sat in the passenger seat. The object bounced off the windshield and landed on the driver side. Seeing that it was a live grenade, he picked it up to throw it back out of the window, but it slipped out of his hand and fell onto the floor between his legs. He picked it up again and everything disintegrated into a mist of blood. No one was killed by the grenade explosion so basically this guy saved everyone’s life, but he still has recurring nightmares of that moment, knowing that if he hadn’t dropped the grenade, he would still have his hand. I spent a good hour at the memorial reading the stories and looking at pictures including photos of devastated Iraqi’s, and when you see this kind of pain and devastation on individual, human levels, it’s hard to think that this level of violence makes any sense.
I ventured past the memorial to be reminded of one negative about the beach when the sun’s out–hot sand. I found a spot next to people I deemed superficially least likely to steal my things (an English woman wearing a straw hat and sun dress, an actress type listening to her iPod and a Hispanic family with small, adorable children) and set up camp. Since it was a hot day, wanted to go out into the water first so that the heat wouldn’t be intolerable. The water was about knee high for yards so I slowly waded out, only to find that the waves were deceptively strong with a monster one quickly going over my head and tumbling me under water. I surfaced to find myself halfway back to land in shallow water, with my nipple displayed for man, woman and child to see. (note to self: wear a more vigilant bikini if I have plans to play in the water).
I headed back to my towel and laid out, really enjoying the hot sun against the cool water against my skin. The sound of the ocean is really peaceful and I like falling asleep with people around…it feels cozy. I napped on and off until a group of Hispanic boys about 16 to 18 woke me up as they loudly declared that there was some girl in the water who was down for a gang bang or at least a threesome later, but one of them had to sacrifice and take her fat cousin. I listened into their negotiations (looked like their buddy they called “Midget” was gonna have to take her) and kind of wanted to wait to see who the girls were, but it was hot and I was hungry, so I took off.
It may have taken me six years, but I kind of think I can like the beach. I want to get one of those big umbrellas or tents so I don’t kill myself with a sunburn if I fall asleep, but it’s definitely very relaxing, and interesting for people watching.
If anyone wants to see a creepy but very well-done movie, check out The Night Listener with Robin Williams, who does a great job in a non-comedic role as usual. The style is subtle and the acting is great, and the story is riveting. It’s based on a novel by Armistead Maupin. I highly recommend it. I tried to see Little Miss Sunshine on Friday, but the only seats available by the time we got there were in the front row, so it’s next on my list. If anyone’s seen it already, let me know what you think!