Nestled in the South Shore of Massachusetts, right in the armpit of Boston lies a quaint, little, oceanic getaway. If mediocre beaches and a plethora of fast food restaurants are what you seek, look no further than Marshfield. This town is an excellent location to raise your kids and get coffee drunk off of the five local Dunkin’ Donuts. But with every piece of heaven, there lies a little bit of Hell.
7.) The vacationers:
There is nothing quite like an out-of-towner blowing through a stop sign that boils our blood more. Due to the lack of coherent driving from every car without a Massachusetts license plate, we are forced to question whether or not these vacation seekers have road laws where they are from. During the months of July and August, the town population more than doubles. Slide through another yield sign at 35 MPH and your tires are asking to be slashed.
6.) The moth influx:
You may think moths are no big deal. You would be wrong. As soon as the temperature hits 75 degrees, Marshfield turns into one massive light that attracts every moth in the northern hemisphere. We’re talkin’ small moths, mom moths, retired Vineyard Vines-wearing moths, Mothman, the moth that bullied you in middle school. Oh, just kill them? Before coming to Marshfield, these moths eat a strictly vegan diet and tweet about their CrossFit™ workouts, making them next to indestructible. Cowering in fear is the best bet.
5.) The extremely severe inability to properly plow snow:
There’s at least one snowstorm a year where Marshfield gets absolutely buried. So why is it that after all these years, the roads still look like a cross-country skiing course? If you don’t have four-wheel drive, just forget about running to the grocery store. Starve to death and think about how nice it would be if Marshfield could get some plows that could actually get the snow off the road.
4.) The high tide flood fest:
If a full moon is coming, it’s time to break out those wet suits and canoes because Marshfield’s semi-monthly flood fest is right on schedule. One of the seawalls in town is relentlessly inefficient at doing its only job. As soon as that high tide is anything over what is normally expected, Brant Rock turns into the city of Atlantis. Nothing is quite as scary as the jetty being 20 feet underwater. The family beachside getaway just turned into swimming for your life.
3.) The high school drop-off:
Every parent in Marshfield is elitist since apparently their children can’t ride on the same bus as all the other lowlife town scum. Instead of using public school bus transportation, the moms of Marshfield line up outside: venti soy latte in one hand, Escalade steering wheel in the other, and block traffic for all of us who are just trying to get around town. Presumably, they must have read something on Pinterest about allergens on local buses, that form of transportation is a no-go in Marshfield.
2.) The blinding whiteness:
If consistent whiteness and lack of diversity is what you crave, Marshfield is the place to be! In this white washed town of 25,000, Christianity is hip, Vineyard Vines is always in fashion, and if dad doesn’t commute to Boston everyday for his corporate job, you’re poor and cannot sit with us. Slap on some state of the art Ray Bans and get ready for all this blinding whiteness as soon as you cross into the town lines.
1.) Passive-aggressive hostility among townfolk:
Your experience in Marshfield is not complete until encountering a townie yelling at a minimum wage worker for a slightly incorrect medium hot coffee. The hostility of Marshfield comes full circle after coming across two middle aged men racing to cut each other off at the merge on a busy road. Will it be the BMW that cuts right in front of the Audi or vice versa? Tune in everyday at rush hour to find out. Stick around for the name-calling and shouting.
Do not let the hellish aspects of Marshfield keep you from visiting. There are beaches to visit, coffee joints to try, and walking paths to get those calories burned off. As long as you can overlook the passive aggressiveness, flooding, and moths, pack your bags and come on down!