Zombie Season in WIldwood part 1

Even in April, I still want to be at the beach. So much has not gone on for me since last time I saw the ocean and heard the waves, a trip to the beach would be most needed. You can imagine I was pretty stoked to have my sister offer up their Wildwood place to us for a long weekend. T had a couple of days off and I…well, yea, time off for me ain’t a real problem these days. We jumped on the chance like a bum on a ham sandwich. This was to be my first real time in Wildwood in about 20 years. Sure, we did spend one night there 11 years ago, but to have the opp to spend 3 nights there is awesome. Please excuse me if this is a bit of a trip down memory lane, but I will try to make it mildly humorous.

As a kid, the trip down always seemed 3 hours. That was because we always went on a summer Friday night. And once you got off the Garden State parkway, every other idiot was going to Wildwood, too. I was quite happy, when Jill, our GPS (yes, that is her name, and one day she will take money from me to talk dirty. Breathy voice, “Yes, turn left here, you bad, bad boy.”) got us there in 2. Gotta love no traffic.

Wildwood was deserted. Over the years, I’ve really come to like getting to the shore off-season, be it November or April. And Wildwood was as dead as all those young white kids Nancy Grace obsesses over every fucking night. We were the only ones in the condo complex. Cue scary noise here. We got in, threw our stuff in, and headed to the beach.

We were about 3 blocks from the beach. It was about 9:30 at night. The full moon was above us, the ocean wind whipping down the motel lined street into our faces. Hmm, a bit chillier than we would like, but, hey, we’re at the shore! As we walked to the beach, it was pretty apparent that we were the only living souls about. T said it looked and felt like we were in a zombie movie. It was pretty eerie, as you walk by huge, dark motels. The wind would make a noise here or there, and you would think you were being watched. I guess it’s some sort of rule or something, but if the motel was empty, all the curtains were open. I guess that is to see if anyone is breaking in or squatting there. This is eerie, too; it almost looks like everyone just upped and left town because the zombies were coming quick.

Wildwood has carved an identity for itself of the doo-wop and 60s era. You don’t see fucking Best Westerns or Holiday Inns there. No, its all local places, most with a fifties kind of motif (if we saw one more plastic palm tree missing its palms). It did feel like a cheesy old B&W horror movie. I think if, for whatever reason, I saw a curtain in the motel move, I would run away screaming like a girl. Er, uh, I meant to say my wife would do that. I would bravely stay behind and slay the zombies in a cinematic fashion, be the hero, and get the beach named after me. As eerie as it was, it was actually kind of comforting. It wasn’t hard to see by the lack of parked cars or even houses with lights on, we were basically alone. We could jaywalk with no fear. The wind blew the flashing yellow traffic lights over empty intersections.

We got to the beach, the moon a few degrees above eye level. It was windy and cold, but worth it for a few minutes. We decided to take a walk to survey the land. We started walking north, paralleling the beach. The dunes and hotels were enough to keep most of the wind down. We passed one big hotel or condo where only one light was on. As we were walking, we would hear an occasional sound. It either sounded like an animal crying, or a big drill going into metal. We passed the one hotel this noise had to be coming from; there were 3 cars parked outside. As we slowly crept by, I was half expecting the zombies to come rushing out with huge ass drills. We slowly walked by, and the sound stopped. We lingered for a bit then moved on. As we continued to walk 10 minutes later, we again heard the sound. So I guess they waited to continue the torture until after we left.

We walked by lots of empty motels. We walked by lots of empty houses, both new and old. I think the modern beach houses are pretty cool, but they don’t necessarily scream “beach”. Just because you nail a few dolphins to the wall and put a small anchor on the lawn doesn’t exactly sell it to me. I prefer the old beach houses, the ones that do scream “beach”. They have far more weathered character. Don’t get me wrong, I would get either one if the possibility ever came along. We got a good idea where everything was (no nearby bars, but it didn’t matter since everything was pretty much closed anyway). We went back, anxious to get to tomorrow.

Tomorrow came the best way it should while on vacation; with a plateful of greasy breakfast. The sun was out, not a cloud in the sky, and actually kind of warm, especially for April. It was time to hit the boards. We parked at the south end, and slowly meandered our way up north. There was much more life on the boards. Bikers, runners, all the locals, etc. We even saw the occasional dog, which broke our hearts because our beloved MissilePup was at home. Most of the stores were closed. Like the night before, it was a bit odd to have such a nice day, and all these stores are closed. I at least felt better that the zombies wouldn’t get us; I believe they have an aversion to the sun. We slowly made our way up; me pausing to get some good beach pictures. I was really bummed that none of the arcades were open. True, most kids were still in school, but I was jonesing to find a Mario Brothers game to dominate. And the arcades that were open weren’t arcades at all; they were casinos. Since I last spent significant time in Wildwood, it seems Atlantic City wormed its’ way in and is trying to cultivate the next generation of gamblers. Instead of machines made by the likes of Midway and Atari, they have been replaced with games of chance. Yes, let the kiddies play the slots. I was really disappointed.

We did find one arcade that had a NASCAR game. OK, game on. I will go through jags here with my PS2 where I will play NASCAR with half a load on, and still win. Surely beating my non video game playing wife will be of little challenge. We were neck and neck when she drove into me, and won the race. Now she will contest this point, to which I will say “Get your own goddamned blog no one reads. My blog, my story.” So she won, rubbing is racing and all, but this is not over. Over to our right, work is being feverishly done to all the amusement piers. On Easter, they all open, so the Boardwalk is full of work trucks and workers doing whatever to ensure the Ferris Wheel doesn’t roll off its axle this year. We walk to the northern end of the Boardwalk, and hit the beach. It’s about 60 degrees or so, a fair wind from the ocean, but it’s still warm enough to feel the sun on your face. At a distance around us are families and kids playing. The ocean just does its job; wave after wave.

Off to our right is one of the amusement piers. We decide to stroll over, so we can go ‘under the boardwalk. I have mixed emotions. Part of me is excited because it might mean I am getting lucky. The other part of me fears this is where the zombies hang out during the day. I’ve never really been under the boardwalk, so this will be cool; even if there are stoners and drunks there. It’s pretty cool, for what it is, and makes for some nice pictures. O, and no, I didn’t and no there weren’t.

DVD Extras

Directors Commentary

Another part 1 post. I do it because I believe, unlike me, my readers have busy, full lives. And you may not have the time to read the whole 4 page account. I am actively trying to better edit my work. And I also like to string you along for a few days while I finish this up.

Pictures of this momentous trip are on my MySpace account. I find MS much eaiser to post a new album. I am still a motard here and can't figure out how to do it. But I do think Blogger is much easier to put the pictures in the actual post. I think doing that adds to the story instead of just seeing 30 pictures with a few captions. Also, for some reason, my posts there are getting fucked up. I type all these in Word, and over the last few weeks, the format never transfers over to MS. It looks like a 12 year old posted it; hell, half the time it probably looks like a 12 year old wrote it. That is starting to piss me off. Anyway, as always thanks for reading. Or at least getting someone to read it to you.