“Bitch” Chronicles

“Bitch” Chronicles

Day 1

After days of preparation and months of anticipation, we headed out the door this morning at 7:51am to head to the beach.

Back in the darkness of winter, we decided that we should head to the beach this summer. It really has been about ten years since we’ve taken a family trip to Salvo, NC. Since our kids are 18 and 21, this is most likely the last time we would have the opportunity to pull this off. My son is heading to OCS in a few weeks, so our schedule was rather limited. Back in February, my daughter set about to find the perfect place.

As is our custom, we invited my wife’s sister and her family. Surprisingly both her kids, age 26 and 24, along with their significant others wanted to come. We were also joined by my daughter’s friend and my son’s girlfriend.

My wife, daughter, her friend, and I made our way along Rt. 460 East to the ocean. Others converged from Charlottesville and DC.

Some things never change; I led the way in stops thanks to my over-active bladder. Luckily, the path to the Outer Banks of North Carolina is well-known to me, and I’ve come to know all the best bathroom stops along the way. We stopped at the Sheetz in New London, the Arby’s in Crewe, the Wendy’s near Petersburg, the State line rest area on the swamp road (Route 17 south of Deep Creek), and the rest area in Kitty Hawk. From there, we didn’t stop to go to the bathroom until we pulled into our Ocean’s Gate house in Salvo, NC.

Storms chased us much of the way. One storm in particular near Camden, NC was particularly scary looking. I imagined a scene out of the movie Twister. The rotating vortex passes over the blue party van. Helen Hunt falls into my lap. She gazes up at me with a terrified but defiant gaze, I reach down and kiss her… anyway…our trip was relatively uneventful.

We pulled up to the house at around 4:30. It’s a massive home with three floors and a thousand bathrooms and bedrooms. It took some time to sort out the rooms, but in the end we managed without fighting. After the storms passed, my wife and I took our first walk along the “Bitch.” This term is what the family calls the beach. It was coined by my daughter. I’m not sure why, but it’s stuck. Now, all of us call it “The Bitch.”

So, all the younger set are gathered around the large kitchen table, and they are telling and retelling story after story while my wife, her sister, and I have gradually melted away into the background. Listening to them laugh and share this time is special. I suppose this must be how it feels when grandparents hang out with their grandchildren. You have a sense of historical time and satisfaction. Life should be a bitch.