Sand, Sun, and Solo Play: How to Entertain Yourself While the Family Hits the Beach
It’s 9:12 a.m. The minivan is packed. Sunscreen has been applied in unnecessary quantities. A beach chair just hit you in the face. Somewhere between the barking dog, the Bluetooth speaker playing a remix of early 2000s regrets, and the ten thousand grains of sand already in your socks, you wonder: Why did I agree to this?
If you, like many of us in the Cult of Cardboard, are not a “beach person,” this post is for you. We offer here a lifeline, nay, a tether to sanity, so that when the family flocks to the ocean, you stay cool, calculating, and at least one step ahead of madness.
Step One: Accept Your Role as the Outcast
You’re not here for beach volleyball. You’re here to survive, and possibly sneak in some light engine-building while the children argue over who gets the purple shovel. Lean into it. You’re the shady figure under the umbrella, muttering about resource efficiency while sipping an iced coffee and holding a clipboard. You’re the one who brought a tote bag full of tiny wooden tokens while everyone else packed pool noodles.
You are inevitable.
Step Two: Choose Your Arsenal Wisely
Beach gaming is an art form. It’s a sacred balance between “portable” and “plays well with partial attention and sand.” Here are some field-tested relics from the archives:
Palm Island – A solo game designed to be played in your hand. Literally. No table. Just you and your slowly sunburning left leg.
Hive Pocket – Waterproof-ish. Bug-themed to go with the pesky sand flies. And the closest you’ll get to strategic combat while wearing flip-flops, aside from squishing said flies.
Sprawlopolis – It’s ultra-portable (just 18 cards), deeply puzzly, and offers tons of replayability. Plus, if the family's distracted long enough, you can pretend an unseen cosmic force is slowly devouring your metropolis.
Railroad Ink – Dry-erase dice game with little setup and a surprisingly satisfying solo mode. Bonus: if the cards fly away in the wind, you can claim divine intervention.
Step Three: Don’t Explain Yourself
Someone will ask, “What are you doing?”
Just smile. Say, “It’s like Sudoku, but for people with unresolved trauma. Wanna share?”
They will stare. They will nod. They will back away. Your peace will return.
The Cult Endures
Let the others bake. Let the sunscreen run. Let the tide come in and carry away someone's inflatable flamingo. You are not here for that. You are the shadow on the sand. The echo of a victory point. The quiet rustle of cards behind sunglasses.
This is your beach now.