Being a native inlander (if that’s even a word), my exposure to all things beach related was limited to a trip to Galveston when I was four, a trip to South Padre when I was fifteen, and whatever I could garner from watching the Malibu Sands episodes of Saved by the Bell. However, upon my move to Southern California, I quickly learned through a self-guided crash course that the sandy inlets bordering the Pacific Ocean have their own distinct culture.
First of all, for the most part, anything and anyone goes. This is one of my favorite features of the laid back So Cal vibe, and if you’re are brave enough to venture into the wilds of Venice, you will learn the true meaning of the afore mentioned phrase. Secondly, the beach at sunset is breathtaking, but chilly (seriously, bring a jacket). Most of the tourists have gone home and the waves are calming down, so it is the perfect time to grab a good book, a cup of coffee and watch the nighttime creep in over the mountains. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sun sizzle as it kisses the water at the horizon. Third, it’s a great place to people watch, if you’re into that kind of thing, but then again, who isn’t.
Among its delights, there are a few drawbacks to being by the water, that namely being seagulls. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals and even aspire to be a dog owner one day, but in my humble opinion, seagulls are basically vermin with feathers that can squawk. I hate them. . . and with good reason.
Seagulls are portly creatures that lack self-awareness. For example, I was having coffee with a student and out of the corner of my eye I see a white sphere of fowl float down from a rooftop and bow onto the umbrella underneath which we are sitting, above my student’s head, to be exact. Within seconds, I hear the green fabric being to seize and cringe under the weight of the bird. “You better move,” I say to my student who was blissfully unaware of the fate that literally was about to befall her. As we are in the process of relocating ourselves to the neighboring table, the umbrella rips under pressure and the seagull crashes onto the concrete slab. Stunned, it inquisitively looks over at us and then jumps to the ground only to continue its pursuit of gluttony as it waddles over to a trashcan and digs in.
Seagulls are selfish and lack intelligence. They will literally stand in the middle of the road and look at you. Chicken should be renounced and renamed seagull because those little buggars aren’t moving. Can’t they read the signs? The specifically say “Be safe on PCH, share the road.” How rude of them. Even if their almond-sized brain does not allow them the mental capacity to learn how to read, illiteracy is no excuse for poor manners.
Seagulls walk strangely. While most creatures of the animal kingdom have a pleasurable if not simply an amusing gait, a seagull’s stroll harkens to that of a drunk trying to pass a sobriety test. Perhaps it is their enormous bellies that infringe upon their athletic abilities or maybe it is their natural lack of dexterity, but whatever the reason, I find it odd that they can shuffle their feet side to side with the ease of a gazelle, but walking in a straight line posses a challenge for them.
Finally, but most importantly, seagulls lack tact. If you are enjoying a picnic with your pals, a seagull will come and join you without invitation. And, if they want a little sample of what you are nibbling on, they take it without regard for you or your feelings. They cut you off when walking down the sidewalk and carry on loud, screeching conversations their fellow seagulls as if they were one of those people who use speakerphone in public. Plus, one crapped on my shoe while I was running at the beach today and it pissed me off.
Anywho, in the animal world, I am sure they serve some sort of redemptive purpose, and I’m sure they are wonderful creatures once you begin to pull back the layers and discover what happened to them in their lives that makes it okay for them to follow you in hoards as you leisurely saunter in the sand and then peck at your toes when you stick them in the water, but as for me, I’m not buying it. Basically, seagulls rank right up there for me with alligators and Sylvester Stallone movies: unnecessary and nightmare evoking.
I feel much better now that I got that off of my chest.
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