On Finding Thesea (Or, Any Dead Body Will Do)

A few days ago, I spent less than 48 hours on Florida’s Treasure Coast enjoying some girl time with my friend Jennifer. If you’ve read my most recent post, you know about the swimsuit shopping fiasco, but wait till you hear what that ocean air can do to a girl.

It all started when I arrived in Jensen Beach…which is usually where things do start, I realize…upon arrival. (Note to self: work on story openers) So I was excited to change into relaxation mode, having driven 2 hours through rush-hour traffic. (Okay, that’s a lie. Traffic actually wasn’t so bad, but saying it was creates the necessary tension to segue into the need for winding down.)

I had barely unpacked when Jen offered me a mixed drink in a plastic cup and said, “Let’s take a walk on the beach.” Which was right outside her back door…literally (that’s for Missed Periods ;-)) Okay, so it wasn’t literally because her back door is eleven flights closer to heaven. But after taking the elevator back down to earth, we were there.

We’re walking along the beach with waves rolling in so loudly we have to raise our voices to hear each other as we sip from our plastic cups. (We might as well be in a crowded club.) Can’t be more than twenty minutes that have passed when we both realize the breeze here is reeeeealy strong, which must explain why we’re having a hard time keeping our balance. Or maybe it’s that we never had dinner and have just consumed a double shot of God knows what.

We make our way back upstairs where Jen prepares us a snack while I peruse her apartment, checking out the décor. There, on the kitchen wall, is this picture:

As you can see, the letters are written in all caps and are very close together. So perhaps you’ll understand why I ask Jen the following:

"Who’s Thesea? Why do we need to find her?"

I seriously ask that.

Jen looks up at me and says, “No more drinkie for you.”

* * *

The next day, I find THE SEA, and we spend our time, sans alcohol, enjoying a more appropriate stroll along the beach, collecting colorful seashells (and even a crab leg), and enjoying not having to do anything for anyone else. It feels good.

View from Jen's 11th floor apartment

Self-potrait: I actually look tan. Ha!

So when night falls again, we want to head out. Except that in this town, there is no night life. In fact, Frommer’s has this to say about the town we are in: “Nightlife on the Treasure Coast may as well be called nightdead because there really isn't any!”

We spend a couple of hours at a charming but sleepy outdoor bar on the intercoastal...

 

Sunset view from charming-but-sleepy outdoor bar

...and spend the whole of our time there fighting the ocean breezes in a losing battle against keeping our hair out of our faces.

For a brief moment, we actually win that battle. (At least I do.)

Then we head home to close up the night by leaving our cell phones in the apartment (So bold we are!) and sitting on the edge of the deck, watching the foam of the high tide pour onto the shore. We can see this perfectly because a full moon illuminates the midnight sky as if God has lit a soft lantern just for us. We are bathing in the serenity of the moment, feeling grateful to have this chance to love and respect what Mother Nature has powerfully created.

Morning shot taken from where we sat on the top step of the deck

Then, in a town with nightdead, we begin to imagine the wonders going on beneath the water’s surface.

Jen: Wouldn’t it be cool if the Loch Ness monster suddenly came up out of the waves and came to eat the seaweed on the beach?

Me: (shaking my head) It’s 84 degrees out…at night…with the ocean breeze. Scottish Nessie would die of heat stroke in our sea. Now, a dead body washing ashore…that would be cool.

Jen: (looking at me incredulously) Oh, really. What would you actually do if that happened?

Me: I’d run upstairs and call 9-1-1.

Jen: (giggling) And then we’d put on our makeup and get all dolled up so we look good on the live news cameras.

Apparently, there isn’t enough serenity in the world to erase dark thoughts or vanity. And Frommer’s was obviously spot on when they described this town as dead. It's what brings about conversations such as the one Jen and I had.

Still, it is a beautiful place where I was able to see this from Jen's balcony when I awoke the next morning.

I don't know what Frommer's says about the Treasure Coast sunrise, but dead body or no dead body, waking up to this view was more stimulating than any adventure I didn't have.