Over the years, I’ve learned not to trust my own judgment. It’s harder to make decisions this way, but at least I get credit for honesty by admitting I don’t always know what I’m talking about.
Case in point: As a young Scott, I heard about people out West who enjoyed outdoor hot tubs in the winter. I was told they did this even while it was snowing.
Why would you want to heat up in a hot tub only to experience hypothermia when you get out? You could achieve the same effect by leaving your underwear in the freezer for an hour before dressing.
I assumed cold-weather hot-tubbers had frozen the gray matter between their ears.
Then my in-laws moved out West and got an outdoor hot tub, and I learned it was wrong to judge people without walking a mile in their shoes, or, as the case may be, sitting for 15 minutes in a hot tub.
The tension rises out of your body and the steam rises above the water, and they merge before disappearing into the cold air. It’s bliss.
I brought my towel outside the first time. That was like drying myself with frozen plywood. Leave the towel just inside the door. Residual heat from the tub will keep you warm.
Although, you might not want to take advice from me.
Here’s something else I got wrong: I remember watching movies that showed people walking on beaches in winter, which made no sense to me.
What good is a beach if you can’t splash around in the waves? As I got older, the question changed to, why go when ladies who should be scantily clad are all bundled up?
These days, late fall, winter and early spring are my favorite times to visit. That’s mostly because – please don’t take offense – you’re not there. Hardly anyone’s there, but the food’s just as tasty as in the summer, and the crash of waves just as soothing.
Granted, there are no scantily clad ladies and no splashing in the water, but I make up for those lacks with deep, philosophical insights.
On my last visit, I realized skin cancer must think of the Gulf of Mexico as bait to lure more victims.
It’s kind of icky and not among my better insights, but there’s a certain amount of truth there, wouldn’t you say?
Let me try again.
The Gulf of Mexico proves that as long as you’re stunningly beautiful, it doesn’t matter how bad you smell.
That’s the kind of high-quality thoughts the beach inspires this time of year. I’ll bet you’re dying to book your trip, but don’t be too hasty.
Remember, the main reason the beach is so appealing this time of year – and please, please, please don’t take offense – is because you’re not there.
Then again, what do I know?
M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal feature writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or firstname.lastname@example.org.