Gaudy signs and neon lights plaster the walls of the buildings around me. The air smells stale and salty as I close my eyes to focus on the sounds. Standing on the boardwalk I can hear the waves crashing beside me. Steadily they crash, each one more predictable than the last. Behind me is the faint sound of club music. It’s a constant reminder that the party never stops…even at ten in the morning. I imagine people drowning themselves in alcohol, each shot taken to bury an unwanted feeling a little bit deeper into the pit of their stomach. Beside me I can hear the laughter of a toddler and the shrills of a baby as they run down the boardwalk with their mom chasing after them. Above me seagulls stalk people walking with french fries in hand, waiting for their moment to swoop down and get a mid-day snack. 

Stepping inside, the sound of slot machines and clanging glasses ring in my ears. As I dart my attention around the room music of every genre can be heard from each corner. A live band covering 1980’s classics, a dark and moody lounge playing jazz and a bar with a speaker blasting 90s hip hop. There is a mix of women in skin tight dresses and women in sweatpants walking between the black jack tables. Even though you can’t smoke inside the building anymore, the carpets still have a musty smell of cigarette smoke. It’s as if each cigarette imprinted itself into the scenery from every moment in time. 

Walking to the elevator I pass three bachelorette parties, all with the same un-original sashes. I imagine some poor girl spent hours of her time putting them together for them only to be saturated in alcohol and poor decisions in the hours following. I finally make it up to my room, close to the top floor but not at the very top. I’d love the penthouse view but realistically I still have a few more social matters to climb before I can book the room. I walk over to the big window, one of my favorite things about this place and sit on the sill. I look out at the crashing ocean, noisy boardwalk, flying seagulls and beach bars below me—except now I can’t hear the hustle and bustle. Everything still goes except now I am in a tank blocking out sound, watching the world below me as it continues on. 

I think about the night that is ahead of me. The familiar Italian restaurant that I love so much and the house sangria that I am going to have one too many glasses of. The sports bar with the cute bartender that always seems to remember me. The nightclub that only plays the classic 70s and 80s music that I like. I think about how this little routine that I have created for myself for when I come to this town, and it’s soothing. The suitcase over flowing by the doorway full of clothing covered in glitter and sequins feels like a fashion show that’s waiting to happen. Observing the flashing lights, drunk people, screaming sea gulls and gamblers as time ticks away takes my mind to another place. It takes me to a place of being overstimulated but somehow bringing me peace at the same time. This shit hole is my happy place. And tonight I choose to be both happy and lost in my thoughts all night long ❤️