The Beach

I take a deep breathe, I smell the crisp ocean air, but not just that. I can smell an aura of tropical sunscreen being applied to someone’s back. I can smell fresh grilled chicken being cooked on a grill under the pier, and the barbecue sauce being lathered on the chicken. But there are other odors forming a layer over these pleasant scents. I can smell flavored tobacco being blown out of someone’s mouth as they smoke hookah in the sand. I can smell beer that was just spilt by someone a little too drunk to function. I can smell dead fish from the fishermen’s bait. This hodgepodge of scents can only lead to one place, and that place being Jacksonville Beach, my own diversified paradise. Jacksonville Beach is not your typical, beautiful beach. There’s certainly beauty though, in both the people and the atmosphere. As I lay in the sand and look around, I see surfers “shredding the gnar,” and even a few walking back from their session. They all have bleach blonde hair, glowing tan skin, and toned abs. But right next to them is a sharp contrast. I see a chubby man with hair all over his body running to catch a football right next to them. His skin is nearly snow white, and his dark body hair only amplifies that. He does not catch the football, and when he bends down to pick it up, I see his bald head is cherry red. If I look out into the finely shaded brown water, I can see nice pristine waves breaking not too far from shore. I can see dolphins jumping in and out of the water ever so gracefully. Soon after their fins break the surface, I see a small red-headed child with his face covered in sunscreen sharply yell, “SHARK!” and run. Which causes a muscular, almost orange-colored man to scream in such a high pitched voice, that I have to double check to ensure it’s not the four year old girl not far from him. I then lay down and stare at the brilliant blue sky, and watch as the fluffy powder-white clouds pass overhead. As I lay there, I run the sand through my hands and admire how soft and warm it is. After about one minute of running it through my hands, I end up picking up an old cigarette butt that had been left in the sand. I listen closely to the sounds around me, and I can hear radios playing popular music, girls and guys poorly singing along, and dogs