Observations of a Beached Whale
I enthusiastically chose to immerse myself into a contrastive non-techy world. A foreign strange environment this presents to me; so unnatural to my regular frame of mind. Even still I try to escape and explore the behaviors within it. I was artistically drawn to choose the Beach as my adventure for my reflexive ethnographic study because of the mixed commercial diversity and celeb-reality shore culture and lifestyle. This exciting beach-scape study group is where everyone can re-invent themselves every time individuals visit. Young and old single or married all come with their own carefree perspective and expectations (and even sometimes an agenda) upon reaching the sand.
As phantom Phosphene horizontal lines of the horizon dance across my closed eye lids, the hair on my arms bake standing on end. My skin burns from the warmth of the sun rays just when a bead of sweat falls fom my brown; stinging my eye which breaks my meditation concentrating on the sounds of socialingustics and of the beach in nature which encompass me. Here I sit on “stay-cation” at Ocean City, NJ where I embrace the shore every chance I get to perform my very own weekends amateur act as a death defying “escape artist” from reality and society. Such is a humble trait of my enculturation.
Hours earlier when I first arrived at this sliver of paradise, as I initially approached the coastline, at first glance the circus of diverse colorful tent-tops, surf boards, sun chairs and cabanas grasped me. Some tents are short and others high, many are striped, while yet some are planted solid colored umbrellas at angles while others were straight up and down with no strategic regard for sunlight and shade… My first anthropologic fieldwork observation of the day is that all little sub-settings are a blatant direct result of the level of thought each band of beachgoers choose when settling-in for their day at the Beach. I am compelled to also add that I find it funny that these tents in a sense practically personify the people sunning beneath them.
With some subtle subconscious gravitation from this vibe alone I begin scanning for where there may be a great opening to set up my cabana and spend my day basking and observing. I find it between a mother/daughter and a “brady bunch” family of 6 from what appeared Greek decent. I recognized the kinship in both these sub-groups as I could easily define similar behavioral patterns as well as differences between each. I instinctively move 2 feet closer in toward the water than anyone else so that our peripheral vision will not be muddied by people but so I can see a constant horizon of blue meeting blue.
The next 20 minuets are the most work any of us ever do all day but we must all in our own form and fashion “set up camp”. So smoothly I “cast my circle” in the sand. Next lay out the corners with our cabana and begin programmatically to set it up with precise action. This presents me with another participant-observation about my behavior(s) is as the leader of the abrupt newly “colonizing” tribe claiming stake forcefully on this choice of regional territory somewhere in the back of my mind (instinctively I suppose) I intend to exhibit that I am an alpha male in this area to onlookers and that this is my wife’s and mine space for the day… In self examination I believe this mimics almost a ritualistic behavior everyone performs when they first arrive at some level; for some it is more intentional than for others.
Finally settled in, minutes begin to pass sunbathing, observing, studying passer-byes as I count the waves crashing which begin to blur into hours…
The seagulls with their tribal behaviors interact with those funny looking oily greasy humans who will pay any sort of attention to them. Then like a black sheep in a pasture, I focus in on this one mid-twenties lady carry her fresh funnel cake across the beach. Just as she reached her chair in the sand, she lost her balance forcing her edible prize to fall off her plate and into the unforgiving muddy sand. This girl with her funnel cake was trying to force a cultural accessibility in the wrong environment and look at the produced result. The seagulls then immediately swept in and flew away with he desert in it’s entirety… Needless to say, the poor girl was shattered.
Beneath the flying funnel cake, my eyes descend to watch children pick at shells from the sand… Their innocence inspired me. I too began hunting as I jumped into the water to cool off. Moments later, it’s straight back to the cabana to sun more for me! But in the walk, if I could just find a complete perfect beautiful blue muscle shell, I joke to myself and think I just may be able to use it somewhere here as fiat money!
Then there is the ranking lifeguard; the “Big Man” on the Beach marshalling the masses of the waves with this neon green whistle as if he was a “pastoral chieftain”.
In extreme contrast, a slender framed gorgeous teenager in a hot pink two piece handling herself so delicately crept up to the water’s edge and for minutes stood there timidly in a state of solace. “Truly a perfect artistic example of a biped” I wittedly joked to myself.
To me, she paused seemingly shy to simply jump in as if she struggled internally with the girl who wanted so badly to be a eye-catching hot woman wanted by every hot guy on the beach, hoping to break the mold of her adolescence. Suddenly an arrhythmic crest crashes against her legs! The girl screamed aloud in ecstatic release from the cold wet shock of the splashing wave and even more so invigorating her and thus jolting her self esteem.
Sure enough as she enjoyed a short series of waves. As she walked back toward her towel, almost if stalking her nearby, are two young males who blatantly cross her path as if they were starring in a performance in an instinctive courtship play without even the slightest idea why. The girl notices them, sensed them proceeded to confidently intentionally pay the boys no mind. When reminiscing I must admit, “Lo! What manipulation we weave in the age of our puberty”…
These same two single “studs” too full of themselves for their own good then go on and throw football back and forth mindlessly for hours on end. Actions with no sense of depth. Meanwhile elsewhere non-verbal language says it all between couples dating waltzing the waterline leaving perfect romantic poetic footprints in the sand. Gaia it seems responds with natural gestures of expression to accent the feelings of her children…
Overall many subtle things I witness of many people(s); happening on many levels and forms of communication. The vast array of applied behaviors which I observed as I baked as a Beached Whale this day empowered me with many strategies for harvesting data for my report. To conclude my findings, it is my holistic realization and conclusion that within our non-equalitarian society which gathers here at the shore, we all find equality in practically everything when stripped down to our sun burnt tan lines with tight water shorts or skimpy two-pieces.
Yet all too soon leaving the beach at twilight we reach the far side of the boardwalk and are all too quickly reminded of our sad stratified reality roles and responsibilities which mold our cast forms of society to bear. At the foot of the campy tourist storefronts we leave our unified sense of sodality collectively with everyone forgetting their cares and daily life having fun at the shore. All exist in eternal hope to soon return to this escape of escapes and forget who we are and make memories of who we want to be.
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