Well, back to work today...definitely a major suck-fest as I pretty much dialed it in on Friday and wasn't in yesterday, so the callbacks and piled up work were at an all-time high. Luckily, nothing too pressing, though I'm in the "you know what, fuck you and your problems" mode so they wouldn't have gotten served anyway. Why? You ask. Because I'm back from the first local beach getaway I've had in almost 8 years and oh, was it nice. Here's a quick recap:
Friday: 11 AM
Departure from Rockville. I'm leaving work and my girlfriend (til Saturday night) behind to hitch a ride with my buddy Scott and his girlfriend (now fiance...congrats) Kelly to Dewey Beach. My buddy, Kupe, has a place down there which he and his girlfriend headed down to Thursday night with their dog, Takoma (the one with the widow's peak coloring). The trip ends up taking us a little over three hours, though it included two stops because we were sure we got lost. Stupid Yahoo maps. Our philosophy simply came down to "as long as the 'Beaches' signs kept counting down, we'd eventually make it to some beach."
After some dinner and card playing, the men headed out to The Cork & Bottle Rock 'n Roll bar for some late night drinks and to listen to two bands play. Decent scene, the bands were pretty good, though the self-proclaimed "Greatest Rock 'n Roll Bar in the World" sure served a crappy Capt. & Coke. The night ended with a frantic girlfriend calling me as our house developed leaks during what sounded like a Hurricane back home, and a trio of fatties hog tying and pulling us out to dance as the bar closed. Can't ask for much better than that, huh?
Enjoyed some tasty fresh-made donuts from the Fractured Prune (stupid name, but good donuts) then headed out to the beach. It rained in the early part of the day, so beach time was limited and it wasn't that sunny, so I think I got a little overconfident with my skin's ability to battle the sun...more on that in a bit. The real battle of the weekend occurred once the sun went down and we entered the Cracked Claw or something like that. It was there that I learned that Crab Legs were available in the all-you-can eat variety. Fools...they obviously hadn't seen me at the Chinese Buffet. 50 crab legs later, they were forced to close the place...literally. (Damned late dinner, I could have gone for the century mark)
More beach time...this time with sun. Apparently, having a redneck and shirt tan doesn't qualify you as being ready for SPF 8 oil at high noon. And who remembers to put suntan lotion on the tops of your feet? Not good times...but I've been worse off. The water was pretty cold and the beach was pretty rocky, but Kupe and I ventured into the water for a bit. Luckily, the shark sightings held off until Tuesday in Rehobeth so all limbs are still in tact...though Mr. Johnson seemed a bit cut off for a few moments as I left the water.
In the two days on the beach, there were plenty of sights including several Johnny Fratguys carrying two rafts full of beer and liquor into the ocean (quite the idea), a big-boobed chick who could throw a perfect football spiral 30 yards and contrasting ripped dude who threw like most other big-boobed chicks (pussy), and the highlight of the beach...Markie.
Markie (or MAAARRRRKKKKK!!!!!) was a small child who seemed to know how to piss off his mother by disappearing. It's not so much that he disappeared as she was arguably the worst parent to ever give birth to children...yes, plural, there were two others. Within moments of their arrival to our location on the beach, Markie had ran down to the water only to be yelled down with a chorus of gut-wrenching "MAAARRRRKKKK!!!!"'s and shrill quick, "Markie!"'s. This gathered the attention of everyone within 100 yards and that's when the real show began. The kids constantly disappeared and needed to take a piss, which seemed to be the worst possible thing in the world (worse than not squeezing it all out at a Nationals game). One girl ended up shitting her pants, I think, because her mom took her swimsuit bottom to the water to wash it out. Who does that? Of course, Markie disappeared during this exchange. And when it seemed that the mom had all she could handle, we got this outburst towards a 5 year old Markie:
"I don't know where your father is. Maybe when he gets here, you can ask him where he's been. Because you kids have been a real pain in my ass. You all keep having to go to the bathroom. This is unbelievable. You ask him where he's been when he gets here. Don't put me into that position. (WHAT!!??? This is arguably the worst thing I've ever heard)
And then he arrived. The only man that would have a woman like this: 6'0", 400 lbs, shaped like the Penguin, face like a Boston Terrier, pasty white skin, wearing a floppy hat and waddling to their umbrella, only to switch shirts exposing his DDD man boobs. (You can't make this shit up...I think I threw up in my mouth)
Apparently, I didn't get the memo that we were planning to leave on July 4th. Scott and Kelly departed at the crack of dawn, but I put in word that Amy and I wanted to stay an extra day, so Jay and his girlfriend figured they'd hang for the day as well. And then there were 4. I'm too burnt to risk going out onto the beach again, so I convince Amy to drive down to Ocean City so I can go to some of the places on the boardwalk that my family used to go to when I was a kid. It is during this trip that I realize how filthy a place Ocean City really is. Going to Ocean City after being in Dewey Beach all weekend was like going to a strip club after a family reunion. I swear if Syphillis were an airborn virus, the city would need to be quarantined. I am officially done with Ocean City...yes, I'm a snob. Bite me.
Luckily, we returned to the pleasant confines of Dewey Beach just in time for an outdoor dinner at the Rusty Rutter, while drinking exotic drinks and listening to reggae music. Now that's more like it...definitely one of the highlights of the weekend. After this, Jay and Jenny and Takoma took off, and Amy and I were left with a quiet empty beach house. And then there were 2. It's a sad feeling when the party is winding down, and the sun and exotic drinks put us both to sleep before 11 PM. Now, I know I'm getting old.
Tuesday, we drove home after visiting Rehobeth Beach to walk on the boardwalk. Amy was a mess by the time we got home as she had to drive (I don't drive stick) through rain and traffic back home to Rockville.
Eight years of waiting and worth every moment. It's times like these that I wish I had theme music. When's the next holiday weekend?