This day before Thanksgiving was bright and sunny, cloudless and chilly, with a steady breeze. I was down at Jones Beach, on Zach's Bay, taking pictures for an upcoming story. I began to notice a pattern of negativity, a pattern that began as soon as I arrived:
Three outright prohibitions and one vague one. I mean, define 'loud'. What if I've got a huge boombox and the volume is only set to three, but it's been painted in garish colors, like some Peter Max nightmare? No pets? Okay, dogs I can see, but seriously, my fish isn't going to bother anyone. Does this bar only pets? Meaning, I can bring a brown bear to the beach? No Rollerblading. Hmmm. Since "Rollerblade®" is a registered trademark, as long as I wear a different brand of inline skate, no one's going to bother me?
(Sometimes, when you question authority, you can't help but get sarcastic.)
(Sometimes, when you question authority, you can't help but get sarcastic.)
Okay, this one makes sense. It's a busy road, and there's no shoulder.
But this is the drop-off for the East Bathhouse, you should be able to get in here. (Okay, maybe not in November.)
During the season, and on weekends until this one, they nick you ten bucks for parking, but that doesn't get you the choice spots near the boardwalk. And if you want to read into it, it's not a parking fee, it's a vehicle use fee. Really, it is.
Twice-reminded about the ban on pets here (but still no mention about wild animals) and some additional prohibitions against wheeled shoes: now rollerskates, as well as Rollerblades®, are not allowed. Still no word about other inline skates.
But I just looked at those signs again, and I realized something bizarre. The one on the left seems to indicate that it's your pets that are prohibited from using skates or skateboards.
Of course, speaking of bizarre, or at least, unusual:
But I just looked at those signs again, and I realized something bizarre. The one on the left seems to indicate that it's your pets that are prohibited from using skates or skateboards.
Of course, speaking of bizarre, or at least, unusual:
Here's a sport I not only wasn't aware was prohibited, I wasn't aware it even existed.
Okay, no fires in the underbrush and bramble, that makes sense. Of course, it isn't a very attractive venue for picnics, anyway. I wonder if maybe they didn't just have the sign laying around, and they were looking for a place to use it?
It's a long, long, wide boardwalk, made of hard hardwood. Maybe it's not really hardwood, it's probably pine, but it's hard on the feet nonetheless. And there aren't really a lot of benches, either.
This sign I really like. It may disappoint park visitors intent upon these two activities, but just look at the face on that fish. Such a big smile! And if you've ever wondered about the expression 'happy as a clam', well...
Less happy are the ones coming to the beach in the hopes of swimming. But then...low tide, November...
Finally, the only 'NO' sign that was ultimately welcoming: the museum/gift shop. Commerce conquers all.
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