MMTT4S - Field Study of the Pelican, Seagull, and Fatted Tatted Puffy Pink Clueless Vacationer

Captain's Log: The end is near; Surfside Beach, SC

The on-site lab - tough digs

Field notes taken from observations in my on-site laboratory (a beach chair sitting in the sand a few steps from the Atlantic Ocean): 

Subject: Pelican
Observation: Amazing glider; Great taste in food - sushi; Enjoys company of other pelicans at times; Uncanny ability to ignore other birds, humans; although water landing is incredibly awkward, it works; habitat - floating on the ocean, gliding over the water and beach, perching on pier and dock pilings, pretty much anywhere there's fish.
Conclusion: If reincarnation turns out to be a thing and I can't come back as Will Smith, I'll take "pelican" please.



Subject: Seagull
Observation: Plentiful; seem to always be hungry; adept at snatching minnows, tiny crustaceans, Cheetos, and spent bottle rockets from both sand and waves; often disrespected by little girls running after them and bratty tween boys trying to tag them with sidearm shell slings; as a result, they must always be on their toes...er, webbed feet...and have the maneuverability in the air of Top Gun fighter pilots; habitat - wherever there is a body of water or Walmart parking lot.
Conclusion: the pigeon of the beach, which makes it better than a pigeon, but that doesn't say much. Still, spotting a seagull or hearing its cry takes you to a happy place. If you like the coast, that is.

Subject: Human beach goer (scientifically labeled as "Fatted Tatted Puffy Pink Clueless Vacationer")
Observation: Obese. Yet, somehow, that doesn't stop them from wearing skimpy swimsuits. They love body graffiti, especially the young adult females. They seem to have experienced numerous permanent reminders of temporary feelings. Young adult males seem to have lost all body hair that would, otherwise, naturally adorn chests, legs, arms. Except for those of the species that have an extreme amount of back hair. In those cases, no hair has been removed from any visible location on the subject. These may actually be coastal bears and not humans. The sun prompts various reactions in the subjects. Some of these are widespread. For instance, the vast majority seem to engage in a sort of sun-worshipping activity of prostrating themselves on large towels or seated in short chairs exposing themselves to the sun for hours. Curiously, many of these subjects retreat beneath colorful umbrellas for periods of time, as though the sun is displeased with them and has banished them from its sight. This ritual is repeated daily causing a change in subjects' skin tone from pasty white to fire engine red. This is one way to distinguish the FTPPC Vacationer from the indigenous Perma-tan Burrowing Local. The Local has a discerning dark tan hue that permeates all dermal layers due to a lifetime usage of SPF4 or below. Plus, the Local usually doesn't appear during the summer months except at just before dusk, for a few minutes at sunrise, and on Saturday mornings during the great Vacationer migratory shift. During the summer months, Locals hunker down in their domiciles, only venturing out when necessary, blending in with the Vacationers as inconspicuously as possible. Vacationers also participate in numerous activities when not reclining motionless. Certain subjects, typically the younger and older of the group, are obviously fascinated with seashells and cannot seem to collect enough of them. Some subjects are more competitive and participate in various types of games. The more creative types mold sculptures from the sand. The younger of these subjects have an affinity for medieval architecture. For some strange reason, a few subjects allow themselves to be buried up to their necks in the sand. They even find this enjoyable. On rare occasions, an elderly male treasure hunter will emerge wearing a headset and holding a contraption that he'll wave back and forth across the sand while walking down the beach. When the apparatus indicates an object has been located, the treasure seeker will dig down and will victoriously unearth rusty Corona bottle caps, lensless sunglass frames, roofing nails, Chuck E. Cheese arcade coins, and fake Rolex watch bands. The subjects take to the water as well. Many seem completely out of place and find their footing to be uneasy at best. From time to time, sun-worshipers wade thigh deep or kneel down in shallower water and unsuccessfully attempt to camouflage the fact that they are relieving themselves in public. The children spend more time in the water than their adult counterparts. Often, they will take along various flotation devices called rafts, boogie boards, inner tubes, and other inflatables and will ride the waves, or completely wipe out, tumbling over and over as though caught in the spin cycle of a gigantic salt water washing machine while their board rockets skyward in the opposite direction. In addition, while engaging in the sunning ritual previously mentioned, a large majority of Vacationers drink copious amounts of alcohol, which leads to entertaining versions of activities like football toss, which ends with one participant running at break-neck speed towards the oncoming waves with the intent of making a glorious diving catch. It's called break-neck speed for a reason, by the way. I think the ocean enjoys playing the role of defensive back at times like these, because it is very good at it. The result usually involves the intended receiver being knocked head over heels by a breaking wave as the ball splashes a few feet beyond. Occasionally, the receiver gets taken out by a squad of boogie boarding 9-year olds, a preschooler refilling her sand bucket, and a grandmother who never saw the inebriated sprinter because she had suddenly bent over to pick up yet another scallop shell, causing a massive pileup, lots of tears, a lost shell, a broken boogie board, and an incomplete pass. Interestingly, the vast majority of Vacationers have some instinctual alarm that alerts them when it's time to evacuate the beach front and temporarily head indoors. Usually somewhere between 4 and 5 PM. It's like some seaside shift bell rings in some strange frequency only audible to their kind. In largely unsuccessful efforts to wash away a day of sun, sand, and suds, many Vacationers change outfits and flood local seafood mega buffets where they engage in crab leg pile-building, more alcohol consuming, and crying (at least the worn-out kids and granddads picking up the checks). Vacationers travel by foot (clad in either high top untied basketball shoes or slide sandals - both paired with black socks), rental one-speed bicycle, slow golf cart on major roads, Harley Davidson, parasail, and towable banana boat. The ritual repeats every day for a week, and then the flock returns home. After a brief period of sanity, a new flock replaces the old and participates in the same weekly activities.
Habitat: On the beach between the hours of 9 AM and 5 PM, seafood restaurants and bars afterwards; strangely, some Vacationers, who have traveled to the coast mind you, spend hours in and around swimming pools.
Conclusion: An invasive species that provides the local economy with an existence-enabling injection of money and the local populace with hours of unintended entertainment. Much like having a colonoscopy, eating a veggie burger, and paying full price to see a movie based on a DC Comics character - is it worth it? Well, maybe.

Saturday morning clearing

...in both directions!

Personal notes: While conducting my study, I found my favorite time in the lab was when I had few to no subjects to study - sunrise, twilight, and Saturday morning. Our Buffett song that corresponds to my published findings is titled "When the Coast is Clear" - definitely the refrain of an indigenous Local! It can be found on the Floridays album, one of my favorites.



Aloha, amigos!

Image courtesy of Amazon.com