We unload our plethora of things--I am obviously not a "beach towel only" kinda girl. I need a minimum of a comfy beach chair, food and drinks, of course good reading material, and the vital--super, extremely large beach umbrella built in with SPF 50 protection (ain't it great they know how to do that?) Hey, I'll be thanking myself in about 40 years when I don't look like a dried up piece of bacon.
We set up close to the water. My husband gets the umbrella up and now I just sit and relax...or at least try to. This is the perfect place to people watch. Also, there is a warm breeze thanks to a parting Hurricane Earl and if feels like heaven on my face. Interesting people are all around: masses swarm the surf, diving head first, dangers be damned; the large foreign group to the left speaking in quick, sharp tones; the loud family behind us with kids running around in nothing but diapers and hopefully lots of sunscreen; their cherubic faces are endearing as they squeal in delight and fear, both from the water and being chased their vigilant parents; all while two lifeguards sit in their lofty chairs gazing out to the water and hopefully watching for disasters as they flex their muscles to each other.
Must be nice to sit and be by the water all day. Maybe I'm in the wrong profession, I think to myself until I see them leap off their perch, rip of their hoodies, and dive into the water--all very Baywatch, I might add (and hurrah! They are watching...I feel very safe now.) I did find myself looking around for David Hasselhoff (guess he was busy that day.) Cue the music...hey where is that red canister/floaty thing that they're supposed to have draped across their tan, sculpted bodies. Oh, yeah, wait....this is not Hollywood I remind myself as the slightly pudgy one makes to the the struggling swimmer first. The other lingers behind. Finally, they both pull out what appear to be a dead body. Nah, it's a woman and obviously swimming is not her thing since she couldn't pull herself out of the ocean and was mercilessly bashed around by the waves. Finally making it on the sand, she's just passes out. They try to sit her up to no avail. Poor dear, I think and tell myself to avoid the water. No need to embarrass myself. She is subsequently taken away to recover.
The crowd disperses and life goes on. I barely have time to relax next to my husband when a flying beach umbrella (never thought about using this as weapon before...interesting) takes flight and almost impales the kissing couple in front of us. Yikes--a little to the left and we'd read about their unfortunate demise due to a cruel twist of fate in the morning papers. Good thing the Gods were smiling on them.
I'm quite enjoying myself until I almost get my head bashed in by a soccer ball. I immediately give the three dudes tossing it around an evil eye, but, of course they are oblivious to any inconvenience or potential harm they are causing others around them. I mean, why stay further back on the sand where there are large, open places to play when you could position yourself closer to the shore and around other adults and small children? I mean why be considerate? After all, consideration and common courtesy are overrated.
I guess I've mastered my "look of death" since the oldest guy stares at me and eventually moves them back and away from people. Or maybe it could have been the few choice words beginning with "f" and ending with "g" and don't forget the "bastards." Hey usually I'm and nice person, until you almost take off my head with a soccer ball. I kind of like my head.
I look over at my husband...still looking good... and hot, if I do say so myself. Darn...if only there was no one on the beach...we'll just leave the rest of those thoughts alone...for now.
Instead, I lay back on my fancy beach chair. Damn, this is nice, I think. Until the little kid kicks sand on me...ahhh...beach life at its best.
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