Endless summer nights, our toes in the sand, crowded nightclubs, watered down-light beer, Kamikaze shots. Sweaty bodies, strobe lights, mile-long lines to the bathroom, not my choice of music. Abandoning the club, I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here, but the crashing waves are hypnotic and the cool breeze breaks my skin out in goosebumps. Beachside shops shut down for the night, scattered lights on inside shine down on surfboards and seashell jewelry for sale. I’ve never been one for summer love and it’s unfortunate because it seems to be what every tourist from up north is seeking. My sandals clap against the planks as I walk past hotels and restaurants, more little shops and beach equipment rental stores. I wonder what a jail sentence for stealing a waverunner for a joyride would look like as I wish these summer nights would never end.