Falmouth

I spent several hours on a Cape Cod beach Tuesday. I did this for a variety of reasons. There was the obvious rest-and-recuperation idea. There was also the sense that if I don't get to a beach on a given summer then after Labor Day I'll feel that I've missed out on something.

I drove out to Falmouth Monday evening, checked in to a motel there. It was a decent hotel, though rather further from the beach than I had envisioned. Still, compared to the digs I adopted as my own in San Francisco for more than a week last fall -- this was Shangri-La.

The next morning I headed beachside very early. I found a good parking space near a English-style pub named British Beer Company. The name is sort of a joke -- it allows the place to use the initials BBC, famed more for the broadcasting context.

The parking space was metered. I stayed all day -- from 7 until 4:30, and only fed the meter quarters from time to time. I was quite lax in this, the meter must have been showing "expired" for 75% or more of my stay. Still, I never saw a metermaid (or whatever is the proper term nowadays) and never got a ticket.

It was "in season," but it was also a Tuesday, so the beach was nicely crowded -- pleasantly busy but not sardine-style packed.

I had expected big ocean-beach style waves. This expectation was disappointed. Martha's Vinyard is visible in the distance and presumably breaks any incoming waves.

All things considered, though, I'm happy to report: it was a fine day. I reached a level of Zen contentment and unconcern with the affairs of the world I seldom attain. That's good, because I go back to work this coming Monday.