Sun, Surf, Sand and Strip Clubs

As the Summer season races toward us--thank the Lord, 6th grade didn't kill me--I'm reminded of my all time favorite beach story.

I've always loved to travel. Love to check out new places, but there are also tried and true trips that can't be beat and plenty of places I gladly return to time and again. The beach is easily one of those places. I say "the beach" in general terms since living in Georgia offers plenty of opportunity to hit any number of nearby beaches. So I can't even pin point one particular favorite--but just about any beach will do.

Naturally my son has been quite the traveler in his 12 years as well. He took at cruise at three--his first beach was one in the Caribbean. Not too shabby. And he, too, is a lover of sun, surf and sand.

All this is background info to keep in mind for this, my favorite beach story, which doesn't even involve sun, surf or sand.

Now for the actual story: there is a stretch of roadway that we drive along near my home pretty frequently. It's a six lane highway that leads from my house to the infamous I-285 perimeter that circles the city of Atlanta. This highway has an access road along it filled with apartments, restaurants, gas stations, corporate buildings and more. One particular exit is crowded with establishments loaded with brightly colored signs: a QT gas station, a Barnacles seafood restaurant, a shopping center with a gym and other storefronts, a Waffle House (can't throw a stone without hitting one of those around here), and more all clustered tightly together, fighting for space and passerby attention. Wedged among the hub-bub also sits one cement building painted with palm trees and beach scenes and adorned with neon lights, all designed to brighten up a windowless exterior. Hmmm, you say. Lively scenes, no windows, neon. All of that translates into one type of establishment: a gentlemen's club, nudie bar, shoe show, strip club.

So we pass this establishment along with all the others off this exit fairly regularly. And one day when Chase was about eight, we'd returned from one of our summer excursions and he pipes up from the back seat: "I know what's in that building."

"Oh really," laughed my husband. "You know what's in there? What is?"

"The beach," said my innocent son, very sure of his answer.

"You're exactly right," I jumped in, shooting my husband the evil eye. Palm trees, sunny scenes...what else could it possibly be?

From that point on, each time we drove past that exit with the cornucopia of facilities, that colorful, eye-catching building was the one Chase zeroed in on. Of course, John helped this along by pointing it out and reminding him that the "beach" was in that building--wink, wink, nudge, nudge in my direction, laughing all the while. I'd sigh and roll my eyes. Man humor.

After awhile, the novelty wore off and the infamous building ceased to be a topic of conversation every time we drove past. Fast forward a year or so and one day, when Chase was about 10, we were driving by and out of nowhere he questioned from the back seat: "What was it that was in that building, again?"

Before John could pipe up with his beach references and start another multi-month extension of the nudie club humor, I spoke up quickly, thinking to myself: You know what, he's 10 years old. I'd heard that it was an age where you should stop giving kiddie answers to important questions like "Where do babies come from" and just give the facts. Time to stop sugar coating reality and just shoot straight. So why not in this case too?

"You know what's in that building, Chase?" I said, before John got a word out of his mouth. "Women take their clothes off and dance around for men in that building. That's why there aren't any windows."

Chase's eyes were the size of golf balls and he was all ears.

"That's right. Men like to look at naked ladies so women in there take off all their clothes and dance around to music. Men like to see that and they pay them money."

Silence greeted me. You could hear a pin drop in the back seat as Chase absorbed this dose of reality.

And then I heard him: "But the sign says Barnacles Steak and Seafood."

Ah yes, plenty of good stories have stemmed from vacations to the beach but none quite so memorable as that one.