Having grown up two stoplights from the ocean, I consider myself a beach-going expert. You’d be hard pressed to find me feeding the sea-rats (I mean, sea-gulls) because it’s absolutely not “cute” to watch them eat your Doritos. (Know what is extra not-cute? Getting pooped on. Or having your entire sandwich snatched from your sandy drunk paw by a bird. This isn’t a Hitchcock movie; stop feeding the damn gulls!).

Having spent countless afternoons putting off homework to bronze in white sand throughout my high school years, and outright skipping classes to drive a half hour to Cocoa beach during college, I’m a virtual pro at packing a beach bag. The key is to ensure you have the necessary essentials to survive peak tanning hours without needing a bell hop to lug it all to the perfect spot.

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