I guess some good things come of extending the season at the shore, especially for those who benefit monetarily, such as store owners. Some of us have mixed emotions, however.
The Wildwoods, AKA Five Mile Beach (that’s a bit of a stretch without including Lower Township) always felt overcrowded during the summer season. The primary reason for this was that it was overcrowded.
Excitement and anticipation grew steadily during the spring months, and most of us welcomed the summer, as well as the visitors. The welcome generally wore out sometime in July. It wasn’t that we didn’t like the people, but we grew tired of fighting traffic every day. Almost daily, we performed an aggravation/benefit analysis in deciding whether or not to bother driving to one store or another.
It was always easy to forget that we knew the island like the backs of our hands, when assessing the driving abilities (or seemingly lack thereof) of the typical vacationer. They apparently believed they’d be ticketed for driving faster than eight miles per hour, all the while gawking at the things we considered rather normal, such as motels. Now they gawk at condos, because the motels are going the way of the dodo bird.
For those of us working the rather simple jobs, such as running rides, our patience wore thin with explaining that six tickets were required for a ride, as stated on the five or six signs plastered all over the place. Follow this conversation, not made up, repeated many times during the season:
Operator: Six.
Mother: Six? Six tickets per child?
Operator: Yes.
Mother: The lady in the ticket booth said I only needed one ticket.
Operator: If she said that, she was incorrect.
Mother: Where do I get the tickets?
Operator: Where did you get the ones you have?
Mother: Over there (pointing to the ticket booth).
Operator: That’s where you get them.
Some of the residents referred to vacationers as “shoobies.” Mostly, this term described some of the day trippers, especially those who arrived via charter bus. They wore shoes to the beach, mainly because that’s what they wore when they arrived, and took to the beach just because it was there.
For those of us who actually survived the onslaught of vacationers, we looked forward to Labor Day, when we “took back the island,” so to speak. Let me correct that. I really never wanted the summer to end, but there was this thing about being able to breathe again.
Immediately after Labor Day, we found the island empty of tourists, save a few stragglers. Our summer friends usually came down for a few weekends, but virtually everything associated with the summer season was now closed for the winter. A thirty-minute round trip now took less than ten. We rode our bikes on the boardwalk any time of the day, and usually encountered no more than a few people, even on weekends.
The extended season started with the introduction of senior citizen tours during the 70′s. It seemed rather harmless, bringing in a few more dollars to some of the entrepreneurs who didn’t mind postponing their winter vacations. Nothing really seemed threatened during that era.
Times change, however, and now the extended season includes more businesses and more out-of-towners. I wouldn’t call it crowded, but the wonderful desolation waits until about Columbus Day to make its appearance. Last weekend, I saw quite a few people strolling the boards. This makes it difficult to ride a bike along the walk, although the curfew is somewhat ignored during this time.
I’m not really complaining. Observing seems like a better term. Actually, I have no right to complain. I’m now one of the out-of-towners.