Escape to Nature, and escaping the Escape to Nature

New Smyrna in a nutshell: do not kill the wildlife
with your four wheel drive.

After a city-locked summer, Nature was calling to this urban-dweller. Enough of city dangers. I fled Chicago this past weekend with my trusty peer Nicole, in the name of seeing our friend get married in Florida, but also to capture a Corona commercial beach moment. Atlantic coast, embrace our paleness!

[History nerd alert] As we passed a forest of scrub pines and palms on the drive to the shore, I admitted to Nicole that sometimes I try to imagine American places as the first explorers might have encountered them, centuries ago. When we literally pulled up to the ocean at New Smyrna Beach, Nicole quipped, "Well, if the explorers landed here they'd find a traditional highway."

New Smyrna Beach attracts a specific sort of beach-goer. Namely, one who doesn't want to leave his or her car. Smack next to the waves, opposite a worse-for-the-wear row of beachfront condos, is a two lane road. Neither Nicole nor I had ever seen or heard of such a thing, but man, was it eye-opening. We declined to drive our rented convertible on the sand, but took to the shore on foot to get a closer look at the spectacle.

You know what this beach needs? More exhaust.

Exhibit #1: Parallel signs, one imploring us to protect the beach wildlife, the other notifying us that the speed limit was 10mph.

Exhibit #2: A man parked on the beach inflating an air mattress in the back of his pick up ... with a leaf blower.

Exhibit #3: Nicole spies a minivan cruising with its sliders open. The woman inside sips coffee with an mobile, unobstructed view of the waves, thereby obstructing the view of all those on the other side of the road.

Clearly relaxing here was out of the question. What irony if we'd left Chicago only become traffic casualties on the beach. With our quiet Corona moment squashed like a shorebird under an SUV tire, we waded back to main street. Within our hour walk, the town had been overtaken by several hundred grizzled bikers of the Harley variety. We later learned they were spillover from nearby Daytona's Biketober event. Sigh. That did it; enough of bizarro beach. On the excellent advice of a 7-11 cashier, we got back in our sexy white convertible and drove a mere six miles south to Canaveral National Seashore. [Real thing I said: "This is just like that episode of Sex and the City where the girls rent a convertible and drive around L.A.!" Smack me.]

Two tickets to paradise.

Wow, you guys, I don't know why anyone who could go to Canaveral would go to the beaches minutes up the road. It's like comparing apples to oranges that smell of gasoline. On the flip side, we were selfishly glad that no one seemed to care about this pristine stretch of coast, leaving it completely private for us. For nearly three blissful hours, within sight of baby sea turtle nests, we dozed to the sound and smell of waves, not cars. [Real thing Nicole said: "I learned from that Miley Cyrus movie that those flags in the sand protect turtle nests."]

So here are some lessons from our beach day:
1. Support and visit our national park system. It showcases America at its most beautiful. Except, maybe avoid the women's restroom near Canaveral beach #3, I think it's a crime scene.

2. Wear sunscreen in Florida, even if it's overcast. Someone, and I'm not naming names, but it wasn't me, came away lobster red.

3. Double bag any shells you collect. They will reek of roadkill until you properly clean them.

4. Beware of nudists! A friendly ranger at the park entrance handed us a flyer warning of potential nekkid bodies. Given the seclusion, we could see how more liberated people might indulge.

5. Finally, we enjoyed our escape from our original escape to nature, but if you want to skip the biker beach portion, do your research ahead of time. Or just drop the top down, let the wind destroy your hairdo, and cruise through your own adventure.