I love the beach. It’s going to be one of the things I miss most about being in the city. Chicago actually has many very nice beaches. Some people are afraid to swim in the water; I have never had a problem.
North Avenue Beach is always especially fun, although it was more fun for me when I was younger and thinner. They have an over priced restaurant where you can have yourself a $12 margarita. The fries are really good, and probably the cheapest thing on the menu. People watching is pretty good there too, although I find the concentration of the “beautiful people” there second only Oak Street beach. They have paddle board and jet ski rental… it’s really fun if you are young and thin and have a little money to spend.
After I got a little older and fatter I started to prefer Montrose Beach, which is a little more geared toward families and won’t make you feel as self conscious as the beaches closer to downtown. There are more independent vendors by Montrose Beach… and you can still rent jet skis or have snacks, but there are no paddle boards or booze.
Of course the beaches in tropical places are different entirely… they are in another league. I wish I could be on a tropical beach today. My happy place… so many people’s happy place… a tropical beach…
My mother makes my head want to explode. I’m sure everyone’s mom does that to them. It’s my fault really, I don’t know why I felt like living with my mom was a good idea. Of course that’s natural right? Aren’t we supposed to want to be on our own, create our own households?
I don’t want to get into any specifics, lest this blog post that is supposed to be about beaches turn into a whine fest about my mother.
I’m going to run a hot bath, pretend I am in somewhere tropical, taking a hot bath in my hotel room, then go to work like I am supposed to. If I do that enough times, I’m sure, someday, I will be rewarded with a trip to the beach.