Some of you may know that Panama City, Florida is the annual destination for MTV's Spring Break. Just two months ago this town, this beach, this hotel, and very likely this bed I'm sleeping in was overrun by debauched, sloshed college kids doing body shots and making "unfortunate mistakes" immortalized by their camera phones.
Like Spring time's youth gone wild, I am a grateful visitor of Florida's panhandle. The sea water and local color recall a much simpler time from my childhood.
Spending my summers on the Jersey shore growing up, my friends and I coined the term "beach hick". Unofficially a beachhick is defined as a resident of a beach town, usually between the ages of 20 and 50, whose defining characteristic is that his/her car payments likely exceed what he/she pays for his/her housing. This usually comes in the form of 2-3 pristine Trans Ams, I-Rocs, Corvettes, etc. parked in front of shabbily kept, weed overgrown shanties. The distinctive sound of hard rock or the Beastie Boys echoing from sub woofers. "Beach hick" is a derisive term. Although its shouldn't be. It really is just a way of life whose proponents should be commended. In a world where our life's priorities are often too skewed towards careers, mortgages and fashion... beach hicks embrace life's guilty pleasures unapologetically.
I suspect Panama City has its own variation of beach hicks, as do all beach towns. On the surface the residents appear as cheery and relaxed as residents of the Jersey shore. The most obvious distinction primarily being that accents down here more closely resemble Dale Earnhardt Jr. rather than Tony Danza.
Truthfully, I'm incredibly envious of beach hicks. Where I a braver man, I'd relocate to the nearest shore town, regrow my late 90's mullet, tear off the sleeves of all my tee-shirts, find my boogie board and buy a Dodge Charger. I suppose there's still time.
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