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kerry
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when we left strathmere beach we were sunburned and hungry. i wanted to eat seafood, maybe fish and chips, maybe mussels. i had the image of a little ramshackle kind of restaurant with a wooden plank floor and ceiling fans and a view of the ocean. maybe there was a window separating us from the gray--the sky and sea were bleeding into one--or maybe we would be on some kind of porch so we could feel the humid breeze.
i think though that i was reaching, mentally, for some place cobbled together from memories of the oregon coast, of mendo county, of the san juan islands. this is a different coast, a different ocean altogether.
we wound up in atlantic city. we'd left philly for the day because it was 101 degrees and the beach was a mere 85, but in AC it was so hot out and the only covered parking was attached to the casinos. we went to the tropicana and got lost inside. i'd never been to a casino; it's basically a mall. clothing stores, restaurants, a massage parlor, a candy store.
in the casino someone had been smoking, though there were signs all over prohibiting it. the stale odor of tobacco was tingling on the hairs in my nostrils, and just like i'd heard it described there were no windows, no clocks, nothing to orient you. flashing lights everywhere, the old ladies i'd heard about sitting at the slot machines, a sea of blackjack tables. i felt sick to my stomach. i don't know what it was, why's it such a big deal, why am i so repulsed, why take everything so seriously?
we ate at a high-top at chickie & pete's--crab fries and a salmon sandwich. there were plenty of views--one of the braves being slaughtered by the angels, another of the horse races in del mar.
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