Beach Night

Last night I met four of my friends from school at the beach. It was a little after 10, so the beach was dark except for the moonlight. We sat on the lifeguard tower and speculated about the wet clothes that we found sitting there, and talked about possibilities of filming over the summer. After a while one of the girls, who was staring into the darkness down the beach said, "Are those swings?" She got up, and one of the guys and I followed her. The three of us ran along the beach, stumbling in the deep sand and laughing like little kids. We soon realized that the swings were not there. We all said that we remembered swings on this beach, so they must be in the other direction. We turned back and walked past the lifeguard tower towards the pier. Eventually the dark outline of the swings was visible, and we ran towards them.

We all grabbed a swing and took turns jumping off them into the sand. I didn't land on my feet once, and soon sand was down my shirt and my pants, but I just laughed. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, but in the darkness no one could see too well and no one cared anyhow. It's oddly freeing, the darkness. Under its protection you can be yourself, entirely, without fear. Swinging on a moonlit beach late at night with the waves crashing in front of you and the pier stretching into the endless expanse of water is something exhilarating I can tell you. But what came next was even better.

Soon we all rolled up our pants and walked to the water, letting it swirl in around our feet. It was surprisingly warm, and we bemoaned the fact that none of us had our bathing suits with us. "I kind of want to go skinny-dipping," I said. "I'd do it if I was alone." Then the girl suggested, "We could go in our underwear." We all looked at each other. "Let's do it." So we ran back up onto the dry sand to strip down. A homeless man was rummaging through the trash cans for bottles, so we ran a little ways back towards the lifeguard tower. "This is far enough," I said. We pulled off our clothes, slightly out of breath from running and smiling giddily. At last we stood there, the girl and I in our bras and underwear, the guy in his boxers. Then we ran into the water.

The next few minutes cannot be described in great detail. I don't remember much of anything except that all of us were laughing and that I was constantly out of breath from laughing, then ducking under the waves, then coming up gasping for air and laughing again. The water wasn't as warm as it had felt on our feet but I didn't feel cold. The waves were strong and kept attempting to pull my underwear off, so half the time I had a hand on it to keep it in place. It was silly and awkward but the feeling was glorious. I didn't feel part of this world. I've rarely come so close to complete freedom and inhibition.

We splashed out of the water and gathered our clothes in bundles. We walked back toward the lifeguard tower, anticipating the looks on the others faces when we got there. As we approached, we greeted them nonchalantly and asked if they could hold onto our clothes. Then we took off and ran into the water again. It was rockier here and the waves were more brutal, but I didn't care. We wrote in the sand and did cartwheels through the waves. As we walked through the water, the guy said, "This is like the opening for an indie movie." and I completely agreed. It felt like we were living in a story, someone else's story, a stolen hour from a fairytale.

The other two climbed down from the tower and walked down the beach toward us. We came out of the water to meet them and we all walked back to get our stuff. Thankfully I had brought a large towel so we were able to dry ourselves off some. The girl and I took our clothes and went to change out of our wet things in the bathroom (jeans on wet skin are none too comfortable, I discovered). By the time we came back, it was well past midnight, and everyone decided it was time to leave.

At our cars there was something waiting for us. On each of our windshields was an envelope and a slip of pink paper. Apparently, we were not allowed to park there so late. We all groaned and berated officer Kim for leaving us such an unpleasant and undeserved surprise. But to me, the night was well worth it.

During the drive home I reflected on everything that had happened. This is what being young is for, I thought. This is what life is about, having these experiences. I want to have these stories to tell. I don't want to live according to the rules. When I'm old I want to look back and say, "Look at what I did then, and now I'm here, still whole. I don't regret my life." So I'm devoting my summer to this: I will seize every opportunity that comes my way to have these experiences and not worry about the repercussions. I'm not stupid enough to get into serious trouble, but I can't allow myself to be too smart to enjoy life. I've been worried about being good for too long. Last night opened my eyes. As if woken from several years of deep sleep, I felt truly alive again. And for that, I'll gladly pay a $40 ticket any night.