In 2015 I published a blog about Hampton Beach that was widely read, because apparently I’m not the only person in the world who hates going there. Enjoy.
I agreed to do the unthinkable today and go to Hampton Beach, but only if I was allowed to write a blog on it. Last fall we started a shitstorm with our family trip to the Big E, and today we’ll probably offend the thousands of people who actually enjoy Hampton Beach. So on that note, I am going to lie through my teeth and pretend that I actually enjoy this magical Walmart of beach towns.
The best part about going to Hampton Beach is the fact that you get to wake up at 6:30 AM on the weekend. Because if you sleep a minute later they’ll double the parking rates on you, because the gypsies who run the parking lots there are honest businessmen like that. We got there around 9:30 today, which got us there just in time for the $20 rate. It’s a good thing we cut all those people off back at that light, because 20 minutes later this is how much it cost:
And there’s nothing I enjoy more than giving money to a guy with a cardboard sign because he invested in cheap property back in 1974. An hour later it cost this much:
That seems like a reasonable price to park in a lot filled with a fun arrangement of syringes and broken dreams.
Hampton Beach is also widely known for it’s five star lodging at it’s multiple cockroach ridden motels:
Almost all of these world class motels come with a Maitre D. Normally he will be living in the trailer adjacent to your villa and he will give you some friendly reminders about how your stay may be more enjoyable. For instance, he might say, “Only three people are allowed in a room,” and “replacement keys are $35.”
Despite the fact that you are paying him a ridiculous amount of money to sleep on a dirty mattress that is covered in Hampton love juices, he will still treat you like you are a potential murderer who may or may not kidnap his first born child. Don’t take it personally though, this is just how people show affection at Hampton Beach.
If a motel doesn’t suit you though, you could rent property for a week. Hampton Beach homes are the east coast version of Malibu Beach. Only the swankiest of New England folk stay in some of these glorious estates.
Because nothing says “I have 40% of my teeth remaining” like a cone in your front yard, ivy growing all over the house, and an orange chair that someone stole from the basement of the VFW.
The hard part of course is keeping up with the Jones’s because chances are your neighbors take a lot of pride in their property as well. It’s not easy to keep up appearances when your jort-wearing neighbor who locks himself out of his house uses bed sheets as curtains.
Walking around Hampton Beach can be a cultural experience as well. Just like the Big E there is a never ending supply of fried dough and overpriced pizza.
You will see many people wearing what we refer to as the “Hampton Beach uniform” which normally consists of your oldest pair of jeans, a beer belly, and no shirt.
Another option is the European look
But the above pictured fellas are kind of frowned upon. Not because Hampton goers have a problem with speedos, but rather because their bodies aren’t covered from head to toe in tattoos.
And one of the best parts about going to Hampton Beach is aimlessly sitting in traffic while attempting to drive in circles around “the strip.”
Although it is preferred that you drive a motorcycle and rev your motor really loud so we can know EXACTLY how big your penis is. Because nothing says, “I’m packing” like accelerating from 0-50 in 100 feet only to slam on your brakes because you’re still sitting in traffic.
You can go topless on your bike if you so desire, but the free pupa
Magnificent. At night there are many places where young people can go out and play. One of the best places is the Ballroom. Here you can see that guy who made that song that they used to play on Jammin 94.5 back in 1993, as he hangs onto some scraps that he calls a career.
Hampton is also one gigantic Spencer Gifts, so there’s plenty of stores where you can buy classy complementary t-shirts that you can wear with your best friend the next time you go to church.
Just make sure that you are always standing directly next to each other and in the right order, or else the matching “Best Fucking Bitches” shirts won’t make sense.
And the t-shirt stores only cater to the type of people that you want to have at your resort destination
Speaking of church, Hampton does have accomodations for all the good God-fearing folk out there. It’s safe to say that this church right here,
has the smallest collection plate in the history of organized religion. You just need to make sure that you’re a practicing member of the religion known as “community church” or else the service won’t make much sense.
We do have to give a warning to all the ladies out there. If you fill up on the “fryed dough” and Hampton pizza, you’re probably gonna have to make a monster Hampton smash. And when you do, you’ll have to wait in a long line and make small talk with some of Haverhill’s finest.
Better off farting it out.
And can I tell you how much I just love the beach in general? You get to pack up all this crap, including food and water which get covered in delicious sand and turn a refreshing piss-warm in the 90 degree sun. Then you get to lug it all down to the small piece of sand you claim in a sea of Lawrence’s finest. Your options after that include lying down and doing nothing, jumping into a gigantic body of water filled with salt water and whale poop, or aimlessly walking around gawking at the future cast of Teen Mom.
After several hours have passed you finally get to leave this paradise, but not before fighting the lines to clean off your feet, so that your car doesn’t become Hampton Beach Jr.
And when you leave Hampton Beach, it’s always REALLY easy to get out of there. It’s not like you have to sit in traffic for another hour and a half as you wait for the draw bridge to allow a bunch of boats to head towards the infamous Hampton Beach marshland.
Because Hampton Beach is so amazing that for whatever reason there is a never ending supply of people who are willing to wait in line to experience what we just did. X
The bottom line is I would rather kill myself than ever going to Hampton Beach again.
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