VENTNOR, N.J. - It's an ungodly hour. Unless, of course, you are Bruno Battaglia and your god is the sun. And your sanctuary is the beach. And your time of worship is all day long. Every day. For most of the last 40 years.
And so what if the roofers at Dorset and Atlantic roll their eyes at you as you march down from the Dorset Avenue bridge before 8 a.m., shirtless and shoeless, beach chair in one hand, towel and little beach bag in the other.
"Look. He's going to the beach again."
Bruno pays them no mind. He's found purpose enough in life, and that is to be happy, while the rest of you work and are not as happy as you might be.
Happy for Bruno involves sitting on the beach at Newport Avenue every day, carving his little sand ottoman with his feet, turning his chair clockwise with the sun.
Happy for Bruno involves a little limeade to drink, a rag to wipe the sand off his feet, Native Tan SPF 15 for his face only. No book. No food. Not necessary. No dip in the ocean. No point. He arrives every day by himself, usually before you've had your coffee.
"Everybody has a destiny," he says. "I feel this is mine."
Yes, Bruno Battaglia, almost 59, is, hands down, the Jersey Shore's ultimate beach bum, a dude with a California mentality and Peter Frampton hair, who toughs it out in Ventnor because, well, that's where his mom lives.
8:14 a.m. Human Sundial. Bruno is standing up, back to the east, to allow the rays to find his back. With the beach groomed in a swirl around him, sun low in the sky, he looks like a human sundial.
His father was an Atlantic City fireman and his mother a beauty salon owner, but Battaglia has devoted the majority of his days to developing a deeply unapologetic shade of bronze, marred only by a splotch on his forehead that resulted from a mistaken application of Retin-A a few years back.
The longest career path he seems to have traversed in life was that period of time, back in his 20s, when he worked at a California pot farm. He spent 13 years on the West Coast, and in winter travels to warmer climes, where he house-sits or figures out where to stay when he gets there.
But for the last 15 years, Newport Avenue has been his daily beach, on into November and even longer some years. He began the beach-bum routine in earnest during high school, back when Atlantic City High was two blocks from the ocean (and who wouldn't?).
