When my friend got married last year, she and her family rented several beach houses for a week in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Being a late riser, I was determined to get up early at least one morning during the week to go out and see the sunrise. Tuesday night was Martini Night, and after my friend’s father had mixed me one two many appletinis, I stumbled to my bed and set my alarm for 6:00 to see the sunrise. When my alarm rang on Wednesday morning, I was in no condition to move, but I dragged myself out of bed, cursing. I had to stop in the living room to sit in a chair until my head stopped spinning, and then I made my way out to the beach. The beach was quite peaceful, with a few runners making their way across the sand, making me feel extremely self-conscious about being in my pajamas and barely able to walk. I gathered some seashells as I stood there, feeling somehow like I was privy to a special moment as the sun rose.