So, I'm from South Florida - and I've never been too proud of it. Something about the culture down there... but I guess that's not actually what we're here to talk about. Despite my lack of tender feelings for West Palm Beach in general, there is one place that I find myself coming back to every time I visit home.
Behold, the intracoastal sea wall.Now, sometimes the word "intracoastal" gives off a ritzier impression than it should and sometimes palm trees look a little more glamorous than they are. Let me set the record straight here and tell you that the intracoastal is not a Destination with a capital "D". It has no beaches to offer, no restaurants, no waterfront attractions, no touristy enticements - nothing except the occasional smell of low tide and sweaty joggers galore. The water you're looking at isn't even the ocean yet, it's this weird preliminary channel that separates Donald Trump and the other filthy rich inhabitants of Palm Beach from us simple folk over in WEST Palm Beach (that one little four-letter word makes a multi-million dollar difference). The intracoastal is kind of to the oceanfront what a foreword is to a novel - it has it's charm and it's own rewards, but most people would rather just skip it and get to the real deal. For the most part, it's a parking lot for boats.
Despite the ample amount of time that I just spent dissing this place, it's probably the most nostalgic and beloved location for me in my entire hometown, maybe anywhere at all. I think the fact that it's somewhat taken for granted or overlooked is part of the appeal. Instead of going to the overcrowded beaches a few minutes down the road to kick it with the pOpULaR kiDs, my group of friends developed an affinity for the quiet mediocrity of the intracoastal. It's funny how territorial we'd get when we'd see anyone else we knew sitting on the wall. Though it's a long, sprawling waterfront that literally anyone has access to 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and is as public of a place as public can mean, it's also been home to some of my most intimate personal experiences. Just five minutes from home, I'd sneak out late at night for waterfront rendezvouses and skip high school afternoons to lay in the sun with a bottle of keylime soda and a deck of cards. From family moments to friend moments to boy moments to just me moments, I can't begin to count how many can be traced back to sitting atop that sea wall, listening to the water lap against the sides, watching for splashes from jumping fish.
Despite the ample amount of time that I just spent dissing this place, it's probably the most nostalgic and beloved location for me in my entire hometown, maybe anywhere at all. I think the fact that it's somewhat taken for granted or overlooked is part of the appeal. Instead of going to the overcrowded beaches a few minutes down the road to kick it with the pOpULaR kiDs, my group of friends developed an affinity for the quiet mediocrity of the intracoastal. It's funny how territorial we'd get when we'd see anyone else we knew sitting on the wall. Though it's a long, sprawling waterfront that literally anyone has access to 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and is as public of a place as public can mean, it's also been home to some of my most intimate personal experiences. Just five minutes from home, I'd sneak out late at night for waterfront rendezvouses and skip high school afternoons to lay in the sun with a bottle of keylime soda and a deck of cards. From family moments to friend moments to boy moments to just me moments, I can't begin to count how many can be traced back to sitting atop that sea wall, listening to the water lap against the sides, watching for splashes from jumping fish.
[37 25.818' N, 122 05.36' W]There is an entire stretch of this wall, spanning at least a couple miles, that lays claim to countless individual experiences of mine, but I would say that this place, under this tree, at these exact coordinates is one of the most personal spots of them all.
Costello Drive is just a block north of this tree. One of my closest childhood friends lived there. Her parents weren't the worst, but they also weren't the best, and so a good amount of those aforementioned late night rendezvouses took place here. Each of us would sneak from our houses and meet here on the intracoastal wall where we'd sit and try to sort things out together, to figure her a way out of this town. Being a year older than me, her time to fly the coop came a year sooner. This would eventually be the place I'd come to pick her up after her parents kicked her out, just days before she shipped off to the Naval Academy. I remember the haze the rain made of the orange streetlight as I pulled over and jumped out of the car to help her with her things, though she and they were already soaked through. It's funny to think about how many people drive past this spot on a daily basis, how many people living right across the street give no thought to the things that have been said and heard here.
Costello Drive is just a block north of this tree. One of my closest childhood friends lived there. Her parents weren't the worst, but they also weren't the best, and so a good amount of those aforementioned late night rendezvouses took place here. Each of us would sneak from our houses and meet here on the intracoastal wall where we'd sit and try to sort things out together, to figure her a way out of this town. Being a year older than me, her time to fly the coop came a year sooner. This would eventually be the place I'd come to pick her up after her parents kicked her out, just days before she shipped off to the Naval Academy. I remember the haze the rain made of the orange streetlight as I pulled over and jumped out of the car to help her with her things, though she and they were already soaked through. It's funny to think about how many people drive past this spot on a daily basis, how many people living right across the street give no thought to the things that have been said and heard here.
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