Atlantic City Summer 2017: Day 4- Almost a Meal

August 9, 2017

A 9:30 ignored phone call from a mortgage offer triggered our slow awakening on the first full day of uninterrupted time together.  We packed up and worked our way down to the beach. 

It was closed in the section in front of our hotel and a ways up further as well.  That put enough space between us and the construction company making mega sand castles that the water was clear. Clear for the New Jersey shore anyway. Some in my family who were used to tropical Pacific beaches may have unrealistic expectations for the North Atlantic.

Once our stuff was anchored against the seaborne winds, we assumed our normal roles:

Anabelle- Fake cooking playing Chopped in the sand

Rosa- Tanning

Me- Reading while shrouded under a hat, shirt, towel, and any other layer I could find while stray, exposed bits of skin sizzled like a scene from John Carpenter’s Vampires.

I had our room key and spare cash in the waterproof man purse, allowing all of us to hit the ocean together. I was the one the ocean hit back for the most part.

We resumed our normal positions on the sand, except that Anabelle went in for endless iterations of faux Cake Wars this day.  We tried to snack but there was an incorrect granola bar selection in the room that morning that led to issues.  The strolling Ice Cream Beach Guys helped alleviate some of them.

Anabelle brought her boogie board into the surf for our return. I provided a great deal of entertainment for local strangers as waves constantly smacked me upside my head.  Rosa got out to tan some more, while I went to work on some truly advanced buffeting in what had become a full slapstick performance for our more stable new friends.

While we dried off, the wind blew a bunch of smoke from our caterpillar driving neighbors, as well as airborne sand onto us.  A quick rinse ended the shore day.  Back in the room they watched the Friends channel some more, and I went further into the Guardians of the Galaxy comics that inspired the film.

Not counting that just about everyone who appears in the film ended up dead at the end of the comic book arc of course, but who am I to nitpick?  Besides, death in a comic book is shorter lasting and less restrictive than a head cold.

Rosa and Anabelle had scouted the one of José Garces’s new restaurants which was very cool looking.  At the edge of the casino was what appeared to be a Japanese candy store.  The clerk would open one of the shelf sections that covered a secret passage and lead diners into a stylized simulation of Tokyo at night.  

We got some scallop and dumpling appetizers, three regular rolls and a fancy roll.  There was also a bottle of water that we refused to leave unfinished due to inherent fanciness. 

Having completed the most expensive meal of this, and several other vacations, we all said the same thing as we set out on our evening's walk:

That was nice, what are we having for dinner?

Rosa’s answer came in a typical Boardwalk food frying locale that had smiling vegetables on the back wall that were only a notch or two less horrifying than the grinning ice cream cone of death we’d walk by every day.  My wife dined on the healthiest thing on their menu- funnel cake.

Back on the Boardwalk, we passed an awesome violin and cello duet.  The incongruousness of the classical music on the shoreline was offset by their excellence. I’d love to list their name and website, but autocorrect turned my notes into something more correct in grammar, yet useless in practicality.

(Hey, look, its "Duostrings!" I should really look at the pictures when I write these.)

Further down our full length Boardwalk excursion, I had a personally oddness victory. My super villain converse high tops impressed the guy who worked at Ripley’s Believe it or Not! 

I wonder if anyone outside our family knows the music they play is from Danny Elfman’s first film score, Pee Wee’s Big Adventure?

We missed the Taj Mahal’s liquidation sale by literal hours.  Kind of a bummer, but then again, how much hotel soap do we need?

Our turn around point remained the still casino free Showboat.  A couple more open restaurants made it seem less like the zombie apocalypse in there, but it was still creepy. 

Even though they fixed other things, we were happy to see the converted restroom sign was still in use.

We walked all the way back to the Tropicana with almost no shopping.  I think the realization that every single one of those beach front stores sells the same things has curtailed our looking through them.  The “beach babes and hunks” showcased on the unchanging postcards they sell have to be on medicare by now, don't they?

The comfort of the walk was not hindered by sunburned feet as it was the previous year for me. I made sure to coat them repeatedly.  That’s what probably led to insufficient protection on my hands and knees this time, all of which were the color of old school pistachios.

Anabelle had a couple of snacks: the inevitable sample of Polish Water Ice, and a famous, if teeny, cupcake at Boardwalk Cupcakes. 

At our hotel, Anabelle and I got real dinner at Adam Good Sports Bar: our usuals of a quesadilla and a buffalo chicken cheesteak.  Considering the length of time it always takes to fill an order, regardless of how few patrons or  how many staff are there, I’m beginning to suspect they run down to Hooters (owned by the same company) for any food orders.

Back at the room, I introduced my daughter to Hot Shots, which led to her saying, “Why?” a lot.  The answer that was usually accepted was simply, “Because it’s funny.”  They turned to Full House for more socially standard viewing afterwards, turning me quickly to my comic books.

It was my turn to gamble that night, and the power of Wonder Woman was in evidence. The Lynda Carter themed slot machine turned my twenty bucks into thirty-two cents in just a flick of the lasso.

Since they went to bed when I left, I read a bit more Guardians to tune down before joining them.

Continue

Trip Index