Hell is other people. — Jean-Paul Sartre
Dear Etiquetteer:
I’m sure you’ve addressed this at some point in your storied etiquette career, but if not, I’d like to know how to address the subject of beach behavior, particularly, the following:
If you’ve set up your beach spot for the day, and someone moves directly in front of you, blocking your carefully chosen view of the ocean, how do you deal with this in a perfectly proper way?
What about loud music players at the beach? I know the beach is a public space, but must people haul what amounts to the entirety of their homes onto the beach so as not to be without a single comfort of home for a few hours? I prefer to commune with nature and the sound of the sea—not someone else’s music!
Seagulls are smart little squawkers and they will find a way into your unguarded snacky-bits, but that doesn’t give you (or your loud and annoying children) the right to harass them in return! What should one say or do (if anything) to self-appointed wildlife wardens?
Dear Sandy Shores:
Etiquetteer knows those fresh few hours when it’s possible “to commune with nature and the sound of the sea.” They generally fall between dawn and 10:00 AM, after which time the Madding Crowd descends with their elaborate shelters, stereo systems, and seagull bait.
It would be lovely if everyone wanted to enjoy the beach in the same way that we did, but since American ideas of enjoyment (and manners) fill the entire spectrum, we have to learn to coexist peacefully. That means not being so sniffy about how much gear people drag along with them. Etiquetteer once witnessed a party of eight or so march onto a beach bearing a Cleopatran litter of gear surmounted by an enormous inflatable flamingo. The resulting campsite included a semicircle of beach chairs and umbrellas, towels, some sort of stereo, a generator, and three blenders on a folding table so the party could offer smoothies to passersby. It was vastly entertaining — but then Etiquetteer’s towel was nowhere nearby.
Staking out your space directly in front of someone else, however, is a jerk move, especially with one of those large sail-sized tarps that extend everywhere. Thomas Jefferson may (or may not, depending on who you talk to) have said “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.” Guard your view with a Cheery Greeting as soon as anyone even remotely looks like they might be stopping in front of your beach chairs. The more animated and eager to engage you appear, the more likely they’ll find another spot for fear of getting stuck talking to you all day. The moment you see one of those tarps come out, and maybe even an umbrella, ask nicely if they wouldn’t mind moving a few feet in either direction. If there’s still room to maneuver, they should accommodate, but some beaches are very crowded. Besides, the people next to you might say “Hey, now you’re blocking my view!”
On future visits you may wish to safeguard your view by settling right at the high tide line, but that’s no guarantee.
Etiquetteer really blames George I for the perceived need for beachside tunes. It was his wish for a concert on the Thames that led Handel to write his Water Music. Mass production of the transistor radio in 1954 made this elite pleasure possible for everyone — but they don’t often choose Handel, now do they*? Few problems are solved without communication. Beyond a “Would you mind turning that down a bit?” Etiquetteer could only suggest that you ask them to play something you like — and even then, that’s not likely to be received well.
As to the treatment of seagulls, Etiquetteer must gently disagree with you. Eternal vigilance is needed to protect one’s picnics from these avian menaces. Others are simply more proactive than you prefer. As long as no physical contact is actually made with a seagull, Etiquetteer has no qualm. Other sea birds, however, should be left strictly alone.
Etiquetteer would gladly join you for a Coastal Grandma-style beach day — plenty of unbleached linen, tattered cotton plaids, enormous hats, plain white umbrellas, trashy novels, and rosé, and no music — but in the meantime wishes you all the serenity of the tide gently lapping the sands.
*In fact, two dear friends of Etiquetteer were once reduced to helpless laughter when they could not escape the sounds of “Diva” by Club 69 blasting from the boombox of some Very Naughty Boys.