The OBX

So yes, I'm back from the beach. I was lucky enough to get some time off work and go to the beach, the Outerbanks, NC.

Let me start off by saying that I'm not much of a souvenir type person. I don't have any real souvenirs. I remember a wooden bracelet that I got Tiff at the Bahamas that was presented to us as a gift... I was so confused when he started asking for money. There are a couple hideously stand-out-in-a-crowd T-shirts from Maine that I wear, or wore, but the one I wear the most was a gift. Maybe I just like gifts. There was a T-shirt from Maine that had a lobsterman, dressed in yellow holding a big red lobster that I wore all the time as a kid... I wore it on my first day of school, ever. I got it instead of an ice cream at Boothbay that day.

Anyways, enough about me... on to the Outerbanks. I'm not sure what it is about the Outerbanks, but it seems like you can find fans, proudly displaying their vacation-destination loyalty, wherever you go. That's right, OBX has become an oddly ubiquitous sign of where you are on the social ladder. It seems like without an OBX window sticker, or a dainty OBX bumper sticker, or emblazon on a sweater, cap, or at the very least, key chain, you're just not at the same level of haughty-taughty-ness. An OBX sticker, 'ooohhh-aaaahhh.'

It's true the OBX makes for great vacations, and great fun, great food, great times, great memories, ... maybe the OBX is just a symbol of greatness... similar to the Empire State Building and the Pyramids of Giza, but easier because it comes in sticker form... but I easily will resist ever sporting the OBX symbol. Maybe I'm just not that great after all.