Sea Breeze Resort

Sea Breeze announces itself in the first baritone bass note of the evening. Sunbathers claim the sand by noon, families stake claim to shaded loungers, and by ten the DJs turn the place into a low-slung club that vibrates through your chest. The beach is shockingly clean, salt on your lips and sun-heated canvas under your hand. Chain comforts sit cheek by jowl with seaside kitsch: Gloria Jean's iced coffees, a KFC bucket passed around like communion, and neon signs reflected in shallow pool water. Service can flip from slick to chaotic in a breath, especially at the edges of the season. It is a place built for July and August, live music and late swims, not for quiet autumn mornings. If you go, time it for high summer and bring cash for private club entry. On the promenade someone still sells sunbed tokens from a battered tin box.