Loon on the Beach
I know you like stories so here's one for you...
So... yesterday I'm taking my customary reading-walks to Bolsa Chica Beach about 4:45 pm. I get to one of the picnic areas and park myself in the sun and carry on reading “I Know This Much Is True” and work on my olive tan. I’m there approximately forty-five minutes into this book and in the top of my eye I see this girl on a bike riding straight for me. She stops right in front of me and asked me what I was reading, so I told her. The turned into a thirty minute tête-à-tête, during which I’m questioning is this girl of 40, shoulder length blonde hair, thin, blue eyes, kind of cute, either inebriated or did she miss the short bus to Bellevue? We’ll we talked about a lot of things. Most dealing with her court ordered psychological examinations, AA meetings, and other various run-ins with the law she’s had. Then she pulls out a Budweiser in a paper bag from her bicycle basket and downs it, looks at me and asks if I had any pot. I tell her no, that I’m just out for some exercise of mind and body. Then she tells me not to fret, she’d be right back with some pot. I kind of dismiss her thinking it was a fun exchange but I won’t be seeing this nut case again. So I continue reading Wally Lamb, as you know is about a schizophrenic depressive (oh the irony). So it’s about 6:30, with the sun starting to settle into the ocean, I decide to start my venture home. Low-and-behold I see Deborah (the dunk-loon) peddling my way. Of course I play nice and tell her long time no see. She tells me that she was unable to get any pot but she bought me a beer instead. So being affable as I am I accept her present and sit with her at the beginning of Bolsa Chica, watching the Sheriff busting some drunk on the beach and sharing this paper-bag covered bottle of Budweiser with this bizarre girl I just met. She tells me that she’s never met anyone as nice as me out here and asked if I would be here tomorrow. Oh shit, what did I get myself into now, I tell myself. I told her yes that I come to read and watch the sunset ritually every weekday. She so happy she gave me a hug and said she would be looking for me tomorrow and would bring me another beer if she found me. Feeling a bit hungry I ask her if she would like to join me at Super-Mex for some food and another beer, she tells me that the police do not allow her to cross to the other side of PCH. Lets see if I see her today.
So... yesterday I'm taking my customary reading-walks to Bolsa Chica Beach about 4:45 pm. I get to one of the picnic areas and park myself in the sun and carry on reading “I Know This Much Is True” and work on my olive tan. I’m there approximately forty-five minutes into this book and in the top of my eye I see this girl on a bike riding straight for me. She stops right in front of me and asked me what I was reading, so I told her. The turned into a thirty minute tête-à-tête, during which I’m questioning is this girl of 40, shoulder length blonde hair, thin, blue eyes, kind of cute, either inebriated or did she miss the short bus to Bellevue? We’ll we talked about a lot of things. Most dealing with her court ordered psychological examinations, AA meetings, and other various run-ins with the law she’s had. Then she pulls out a Budweiser in a paper bag from her bicycle basket and downs it, looks at me and asks if I had any pot. I tell her no, that I’m just out for some exercise of mind and body. Then she tells me not to fret, she’d be right back with some pot. I kind of dismiss her thinking it was a fun exchange but I won’t be seeing this nut case again. So I continue reading Wally Lamb, as you know is about a schizophrenic depressive (oh the irony). So it’s about 6:30, with the sun starting to settle into the ocean, I decide to start my venture home. Low-and-behold I see Deborah (the dunk-loon) peddling my way. Of course I play nice and tell her long time no see. She tells me that she was unable to get any pot but she bought me a beer instead. So being affable as I am I accept her present and sit with her at the beginning of Bolsa Chica, watching the Sheriff busting some drunk on the beach and sharing this paper-bag covered bottle of Budweiser with this bizarre girl I just met. She tells me that she’s never met anyone as nice as me out here and asked if I would be here tomorrow. Oh shit, what did I get myself into now, I tell myself. I told her yes that I come to read and watch the sunset ritually every weekday. She so happy she gave me a hug and said she would be looking for me tomorrow and would bring me another beer if she found me. Feeling a bit hungry I ask her if she would like to join me at Super-Mex for some food and another beer, she tells me that the police do not allow her to cross to the other side of PCH. Lets see if I see her today.