The other morning I awoke to a lovely spring like day. IT was Sunday, the birds were chirping, the palms trees were swaying and all was good. Hmm, I thought, I think ill go to the beach and take a walk, maybe catch some hottie spring break girls or at least a few MILF’s speed walking, as they do on beautiful days such as this. I probably sound like a dirt bag basing my walks around checking out good looking ladies, and your right I am, but if I’m going to walk somewhere I would rather do it where I can enjoy the scenery.
I’ve been sober for the past week. That means no booze, no beer, no pot, no pills and really no fun. For some reason I felt the need to get my stuff in order and I thought sobriety might help that out a bit. I have not tried it in ten plus years so I figured, what the hell, ill give it a whirl. So far all it’s given me is vivid dreams, which include balloons, fires and married women and some sort of rash on my left foot. I also took some vitamins they other day to be all healthy and what not. I didn’t know you were supposed to eat before you take vitamins. If you are an idiot like me and you take vitamins without eating you get to have a whole day of feeling like your being stabbed in the gut as well as wanting to curl up like a ball. Scotch did these things to me as well, but at least I got to have some fun before I felt like I wanted to die. Servers me right for being healthy I guess.
As I was saying I was getting ready to go for a lovely walk on the beach. I would have run, but my stomach was still twirled up due to the vitamins I ingested. Healthiness rules. Right as I was walking out my door with a blueberry Izzy Soda (Best sparkling juice ever. A true gift from the gods) my buddy Ham Head called. He is the only other person that is up as early as me no matter how late he stays out. After a brief conversation he decided a walk on the beach with hopes of checking out MILF’s and other beach lovelies and an Izzy Fruit juice was right up his alley. IT was 9am and the day was looking good.
Ham Head is a fan of the Marijuana so bring the host that I am I offered to roll him a joint of the finest kind bud that I had. He accepted. Shocking. Watch him happily puff away on the spilf I thought to myself. What could one puff do? The little joint looked up at me from his mouth and said, “Smoke me! I’m fun! Its Sunday you’re going to the beach. Come on man” I felt like I was Richard prior for a minute and as I was sucked in to its goodness. I really hoped I didn’t catch on fire and blow up. Good thing I never took up freebasing. Fuck it! What’s one hit? I took two.
We got in the car high and happy. I put on some Sly and the Family Stone and we rolled through the old town neighborhoods enjoying the morning sunlight off the palm trees and the locals walking their dogs and grabbing their papers. Mmm I love driving high. To the beach we headed and the funk slid in to some deep Hip Hop pulsing through the system. I turned it up. Driving with my windows down and the AC on I feel like I’m cheating earth and riding some weird line of nature vs. technology and I am winning for just a minute.
We drove past hot little spring break girls in bikinis to small for them and bodies to perfect for their young faces. We were old guys blaring beats early in the morning driving slowly as if we really were that cool. To them we did not even exist. All I could think of was dazed and confused were Mathew McCaughey says, ” I get older and they stay the same age” The only difference is I felt as douchey as he is in the film and we looked every bit the jackass part. I enjoyed holding up the camouflage for the moment. It felt right and who am I to say I am acting wrong?
We rolled past the Catholic Church as the parishioners streamed out to the parking lot and we looked like to bad white thugs that grew up in good suburban blaring Blackalicious songs to loud to early. As we floated by in the car I dug the strange looks we got from the churchgoers decked out in their Sunday best. I felt young, I felt silly, I felt high and I liked the role.
Life continued to roll by as if we were in a montage from Humar and what’s his face go to White castle. A old Cuban washed his 70’s Caddy with a baby ’s diaper, a baby French bulldog walked a little girl to the store, two old ladies strolled in time to the music swinging their arms like a 50’s musical on good acid. As Ham Head and I drove we owned the retardedness that we were all they way to the beach parking lot.
As we slowly pulled up to the only open parking spot, attitudes hanging, music blaring and the perfection of the day’s moments were coming to and end. A German looking couple was packing up the car next to the open spot. (They had on black socks and sandals, no buddy but stupid Germans do that.) Surly the noticed how awesome we were as the scene we made upon arrival was no to be denied. My car parked perfectly, beats were blaring, as we got ready to make our exit. Ham Head got out of the car and stretched his arms like a cat waking up as he stared towards the beach. I rolled up the windows and the closed the sunroof. As I took the keys out of the ignition I accidentally hit the panic button, the horn wailed. HONK HONK HONK HONK HONK. At least it was in beat to the music. Ham Head jumped looking easily confused, the couple packing up the car next to us, and they rest of the beach turned to check out the chaos. I fumbled the keys trying to figure out how to shut my car off. In the process I knocked over my Izzy blue berry sparking juice, spilling it all over the front seats of the ca and myself. Taking stock at this absolute moment of retardedness I lost it. I giggled like a special kid at the fair and started pounding the dashboard with delight and embarrassment. Ham Head started to laugh and shake his head not knowing what to do. The German looking couple packing the car up next to us got on their way a bit faster hoping not to expose themselves to any more of our excitement. We were too much for the black socks.
I found the button to turn of the horn, cleaned up the juice (sort of) and Ham Head and I got on our way.
I have come to the conclusion that I might not be a better person when I am wrecked but I am defiantly more entertaining to the strangers around me. I am not sure that is a good thing, but I am sure that at the end of a good ride, no matter what, I panic and spill things all over my self. They say life is about the journey and not how you finish. Good thing because I hate being loud sticky and having everyone stare with bewilderment at the end of everything that I do.
