Time & Tides

48 Hours at Seven Beaches

Every summer we speak of "getting away" to the beach, of "escaping" or "vacating" -- that is the root of "vacation," after all -- our homes and lives and routines.

But it isn't only about what we leave, it's about where we go, what we seek, who we believe we are and who we'd like to be. If all the world's a stage, resorts are full-scale spectaculars, immersion theater, in which we can regress, succeed, digress or exceed. We can be suave or silly, ascetic or indulgent, nostalgic or presumptive. We can change our clothes, our hair, our slang. To play is the thing.

And so we desire these beaches to be more than destinations, we want them to be deliverances. Worlds away. To beach, or not to be.

The Delmarva beach resorts offer us the complete range of styles and scenery. Ocean City's a carnival, Dewey Beach a playground; Chincoteague our grandparents' back yard. Bethany Beach is a boutique, Rehoboth a shopping mall (with designer bodies). Lewes is a window into the past, and the quickening development around Fenwick Island a harbinger of the future.

They have entertainment styles, as well, and oddly differing airs of welcome: small children to Bethany, "Misty"-eyed youngsters to Chincoteague, teenagers to Ocean City, college kids to Dewey Beach. Singles to Rehoboth, white-collar couples to Bethany, empty nesters to Fenwick Island. Those who want it both ways go to Ocean City; those who want it all, but quietly, go to Lewes.

But in truth, several of the familiar beach towns are beginning to lose their identities, being homogenized by development, spreading out into limbo-like suburbs of one another. Next summer, the year after, all these "theaters" may be gone.

So we have written you scripts, condensing the character of each resort into a 48-hour presentation. You can edit or ad-lib, add or subtract, adjust for children or abandon all pretense of following along. You can still enjoy the show from the audience; you just won't have quite the same experience.

Curtain up.