Not My Ocean

I had a few days off. Not long enough to waste two full days traveling, but long enough for an adventure. So, I headed to Atlantic City. 

It was fun, but not magical. I didn’t find the sky mystically bluer than every other sky. I didn’t bask in the aroma of fresh, salty sea air. It was humid and sticky. 

The ocean was nice. That’s all. Nothing more. I did not even take a photo. It was just an a big body of water. I did not feel a pull of tides calling me to leave a little piece of my soul. I only felt called to leave part of my bank account in the casino. 

The Pacific calls to me. It seems less tame. When I think of places I would like to be if money were no object, Northern California beach property seems pretty swell. 

Maybe I would feel different if I spent time somewhere else on The Atlantic. Atlantic City must have seen better days. The parts I drove through were derelict, much of them abandoned. I suppose I could do more research and learn about why the economy in that particular tourist trap seems to be struggling, but I’m not that interested. I don’t plan on going back. 

I suppose you can’t compare Atlantic City to the Boardwalk of Santa Cruz, which is one of my favorite places in the world. Maybe I am just a West Coast girl. 

I believe I need to explore some of the South. I also need to spend some more time on The Gulf of Mexico. So, perhaps what I am really saying is I should vacation more.