By RACHEL HARRIS

The majesty of the beach is unwavering. I’ve visited quite a few, and for the most part, they generally seem the same. Even still, that first step into cool, gritty sand is something heavenly.

You get it between your toes, and it seems magical. It’s great until you get it between other things. Before you know it, you can’t get it off of you. Those little salty rocks seem to just stick, sometimes even after three showers. It just comes with the territory.

Life seems different when you are at the beach. It is more peaceful, of course, but it always seems like you can get a good grasp on what’s going on, plan for something big, think clearly when you’re there. The waves roll and you aren’t required to do anything else but just watch. The sunsets are more beautiful, and a walk on the beach is enough entertainment for the night.

Vacation time is that perfect slice of life we wish we could all live in forever – if not for the sand, for the bounty of time and lack of responsibilities.

Nobody there-except those you came with – know who you are. Nobody expects anything from you-except maybe a good tan when you return. All you have to do is play in the sand, build sand structures, and test the swimming pool for comfortable temperature.

All the rules of society change when you’re at the beach, too. Suddenly, it is acceptable to walk around barefoot-not just on the beach, either. You can cruise around the condominium or hotel all day without shoes. I’m not so sure the airport hotels here would appreciate a bunch of sandy, bare feet stomping around on the lobby carpet. It’s just different.

The shopping is unreal at the beach. No place else can you find 15 Alvin’s Islands within one square mile. Fabulous if you ever need an over-priced bathing suit or those little plastic souvenir figurines sitting in not-so-politically-correct positions. There’s a shot glass that says everything and an abundance of T-shirts for $1.99. What are those things made out of anyway? Straw? Plus, they always have those hermit crabs in the big glass box. They look really neat, but I wonder how many people actually buy those things, and how many people actually want them once they are home. (It’s safe to say that any desire to attain something while at the beach is a temporary whim and should be carefully considered in an out-of-beach-realm logic.)

My personal favorite is the ever-famous airbrush stand. They are everywhere and will close in on you if you aren’t prepared. As far as I know the airbrush style died with hammer pants and big hair, but for some reason, it’s completely acceptable to walk around the beach with a t-shirt bearing the phrase: “Best Friends Forever, 2002.”

Flip-flops serve as dress-up shoes, restaurants accept customers with no shirts, and it’s OK to eat ice cream for dinner.

If you’re like me and have already made your annual trip to the beach, enjoy the memories of gulping ocean water, and hold your breath until next year. The summer wouldn’t be complete without a few beach stories, a jellyfish sting or two and a minor sunburn to call your own. It’s vacation! And there’s nothing that comes even close!

RACHEL HARRIS is a summer reporter intern for L’Observateur. She may be contacted at (985) 652-9545.