Surf City, North Carolina. Located right up the coast from Cape Fear.
All the things they say about the ratio of men to women in Surf City may be true during the summer months, but offseason it’s a very different place. I didn’t see two other people on the whole beach, much less two girls. With no curls to shoot or parties to check out, I instead threw myself wholeheartedly into the rural beachfront North Carolina lifestyle: I ate a bag of boiled peanuts, drank a can of Cheerwine, and stomped around in the surf for three hours. We then went to a nearly deserted seafood restaurant and ate a bucket of flounder and fried clams. A bunch of townies complained loudly about the fact that I loaded up the jukebox with Johnny Horton hits, but fuck ‘em if they can’t handle “Sink the Bismarck.” This my beach, too.
And yes, I know: Surf City Offseason sounds like an anthology of Jesus and Mary Chain outtakes.
