Every Friday, I get on the L train at 8:45, hope it's not delayed, and arrive at 98th Street on the beach in Rockaway by 10:10, Coors Light in the cooler and styrofoam cups at the ready. If it's a good day, there's a barefoot run along the shore, envying the surfers and trying not to cut my toe open on a splintered shell. By 11am, one Coors Light is gone, and I'm falling asleep to the sun drying the salt water in my hair.
The cycle continues like this: Splash in waves; down Coors Light; nap. Repeat. Until 2:30, when I'm a bit sun-drunk and dazed and starving, and then I purchase refreshing and rehydrating jugos and as many tacos as I can afford at Rockaway Taco.
Stuffed and sleepy, I board the train back to reality and am home by 5... to find my baby waiting.
