Having transitioned from winter to the cusp of summer, most of us at the oceanfront are executing plans laid at the end of last season to maneuver our interests whatever they may be through the all important 17 weeks that lie directly ahead. Each owner has made the necessary improvements to their properties and has bet the seasons business and in essence the years profitability on their capital budgets. Every cook, desk clerk, server, and bartender is excited about a time when scheduled hours are more than plentiful, personal bills are paid on time, and the more experienced ones put some cash aside for colder weather, while all managers secretly await the calendars advance to September 29th. Much like a fresh morning snowfall that presents an endless array of opportunities to an awakening child, so do the ensuing months tantalize business owners with hopes of return visitors laden with coin of the realm for remuneration of services rendered. We are on the verge of another exciting weekend in the world’s largest resort city, wealthy with national caliber musical talent, the Navy’s Blue Angels, and thousands of additional visitors to be bused in from out-of-the-way areas. This weekend will be followed by many more with seemingly continual waves of never-ending nameless guest’s spending money and writing online reviews of our city, her hotels, restaurants, and nightspots. In a few months, the childlike fascination that some initially gazed on the summer with will surely be replaced with distain as our visitors continue to play out their vacation fantasies on a shoreline which to them is alien for 51 weeks out of the year. Therefore as business operators and thus at all times ambassadors of our great city, we must remember to keep our eyes on the end result which is not only profitability, but positive reviews that will generate return business and thus strengthen the local tax matrix. With these thoughts in mind, let us then pause for a moment and contemplate the real reason why people come to the oceanfront; women, without whom not one of us would occupy the planet. With great fortitude, men young and old congregate corners of the boardwalk, crowd into local bistros and bars just to view lovely Lycra clad ladies or to retire from their company until it’s time to return home. As I and my compatriots are living proof, even the biggest idiots in the world are lucky enough to have in their lives a female that for some reason loves them. Consequently as we move towards that crucial time of year of supposed profitability and the outwardly unending river of carbonated malted barley and hops flows with shots of liquor and countless outdoor music events on most corners of the boardwalk (which is really concrete) cause celebration, let us take time from our busy personal schedules and reset the mullet count to zero while extending a most sincere welcome to the real housewives of summer and their families.
