Do you remember how Jason was drawn to Wayna Picchu?
Well, yesterday was my turn.
We had talked about a day trip to a Delaware beach many times while we were freezing in Peru. We were flying back to the States on a Friday for the double bonus of saving a couple hundred dollars on airfare and of having an entire weekend to ease back into normal life.
Friday night we celebrated our safe return by eating Chipotle and watching Bladerunner (which was not at all what I expected it to be like). Saturday morning we pulled on our swimsuits, packed some snacks and reading materials, and drove to Delaware.
Jason had warned me about the traffic and, sadly, it was not an exaggeration. We were in a stop-and-go bottleneck for an hour getting to the Bay Bridge, aggravated by the fear that we would be too late for breakfast at Jimmy's Grill. Happily, upon our eventual arrival there we learned that Jimmy's serves breakfast until noon. Jason got his French toast, and, since I love sandwiches infinitely more than any breakfast food, I tried their chicken salad and sweet potato fries.
One more hour of driving and we reached Rehoboth Beach. We parked, found a patch of sand to call our own, spread out our towels, and slathered on the sunscreen. Jason was just fanning out his selection of magazines in a picturesque way on his towel when I, bouncing in anticipation, couldn't wait a second longer. The water was calling!
Oh, I love the ocean! I love being out there with good waves, getting tossed about and lifted up over and over again. And the waves there were good ones, especially for the northern Atlantic.
Jason, sadly, couldn't go in past his knees because of the ear problems he's been having. I joined him for a while on the shore, reading, eating tortilla chips, and baking in the sun. Just as my bathing suit dried out I went back in for another round.
We stayed until just before sunset, long after the lifeguards packed up and the crowds started to thin out. We could have stayed longer - Jason, gentlemanlike, offered to go feed the meter again. But I knew that Jimmy's was closing at 9:00, and we were both looking forward to some good American fried food for dinner. The choice was bearable only because I knew I'd be swimming in the Pacific in a few weeks.
And so we packed up, brushed the sand off everything, and headed back to the car. Jason retrieved the change of clothes he had sealed up in Ziplock bags and quickly and deftly changed his look from natty beach bum to natty French sailor.
I deliberated awkwardly while he did so. I also had clothes to change into, but getting out of a one-piece bathing suit and into a bra while standing in a parking lot was a much trickier feat than swapping shorts. The other choice was to sit on the rock bed that was now housed in my still-damp swimsuit for an hour, though, so I hitched up to my shoulders the Thai skirt I was wearing and reassembled myself in an incredibly awkward two minutes.
Jason handed me the keys to his car and offered to let me drive. I need to use his car this coming week and I haven't driven a manual transition since early college. However, muscle memory is a remarkable thing, and I drove us all the way to Jimmy's Grill without stalling out. Woot!
We each ordered fried chicken, crabcakes, rolls, and sides (stuffing and cucumbers, in my case). It was the most American meals I've had in months, and it was as delicious as it was cheap. We each had a piece of pie for dessert then, stuffed, we got back in the car and drove home without running into a single bit of return traffic.
Of all of those adventures, I only took pictures of the food. So, enjoy!
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