Beach, I miss you

At the end of A.I. one of the most underrated films ever David is given a chance to spend one day with the mother he bonded with millennia before. It is a one shot deal. It is a very sad scene but a very perfect day. Here is my perfect day, it was one summer afternoon long ago.

Sunshine and eighty degrees out; the sky blue and extending unbroken and cloudless to the horizon. Late August midday warm ocean water surrounds me. I am standing chest deep and a couple hundred feet out from shore watching twisted and watching the wave start to crest behind me. Throwing my arms out so as to form a crucifix I bounce forward and up at a 45 degree angle in hope the wave catches me.

First up, then forward, my body is blasting through the old guys and little kids who are just wading. The wave has caught the bottom of my arms and I am heading fast in for the shoreline. I rush and rush. The ocean here is gritty and has little bits of seaweed, dark green and pocketed with little bubbles of air. Rushing over this gunk I am sucking salt water into my nose and mouth.

When the ride is over I lie for a second on the beach with sand in my trunks. All I want to do is to get back out there and catch another wave. It is mindless fun. The cycle of walking out, watching the waves, tensing up and then heading back to shore in that momentary burst sucks the energy out of you. Vigor evaporates not in little bits but by the handful, by the bucketful. Again, again, into the waves and froth. In my mind I think maybe there will be a bigger and better wave or maybe not but I keep going out until I feel limp and pulverized.

Eventually I drag my tired waterlogged ass up to the towel. My fingers are like prunes wrinkled and unnaturally white. Lying on the blanket I close my eyes but the sun still beats its way through my eyelids especially when I am lying on my back. Turn over, turn over again. This is the old days, screw any worries about skin cancer I am decades away from forty. Hell, maybe the suntan lotion (no we are not talking sunscreen) has an SPF of 4.

Eventually the sand in my swim suit is bothersome enough that combined with the sun’s intensity I decide to walk up to that aqua green snack place that says "Steaks, Fries and Soda". On each end of the take out counter is a huge red circle made of metal and painted with that weird enamel paint. The red ball in cursive says Coca Cola.

I take out a wet soggy one dollar bill out of my pocket and order a large Coke, lots of ice. I walk around the backside of the snack stand head to the city booth at the end of the street. The comfort station sits at that point where the road meets the beach. Balancing the soda on top of the valve for the urinal I take a leak and then head back out to my towel.

Resting on your elbows you scan the beach from here for any of the regulars. Maybe Captain America is out lying on her towel. She is called Captain America by every guy on the beach because of her swimsuit. The whole thing is red and white stripes but the bra part is covered with stars.
If Captain American is out on the beach the lifeguards won't be worth a damn. She has this habit of lying face down and unhooking her top so you can see most of the side of her breasts. These 20 year old college boys that they hire as life guards will spend most of their time watching to see if she shifts on her blanket just enough to give them a thrill. The Titanic could be sinking a hundred yards off the beach and they wouldn’t see it.

Even if the Captain isn't here it is a good day. The water is warm and the waves are high but manageable. Some days the reality of a good bodysurfing run outweighs the chance to look at an exposed hooter, no really.

Another couple of rounds of body surfing and the day will be done. One last dip to rinse off the caked on sand and then I put my Ho Chi Minhs on and head off the beach. Even with flip-flops, on a day like this the sand will creep between the sandal and my foot and burn the heck out of my sole. Youch, youch double ouch as I run for the end of the sidewalk.

With any luck my hair is a nano degree lighter, my tan a shade or two darker. I am hungry. I don't eat at the steak place at the beach it is too expensive and the cheese steaks are on rolls that are too small. Nayh, I walk a block or two up from the beach and grab a slice of pizza. It is local pizza joint owned by a couple of guys with a few stores up and down the beach. Good tomato pie is the solution for body surfing hungry. Another coke and I wolf down the pizza so fast I burn the living shit out of my mouth. To this day I think pieces of my soft palate were lost from too many slices of too hot pizza.

Back to the first floor flat, a quick outdoor shower, a shift into jeans and a t-shirt and I am off to the boardwalk. Hey the breeze will be warm but cooling and the smell of salt air will drive any allergies I have away. No matter what might happen up on the boardwalk, today was about the body surfing. Twenty five years from now all I will remember of this day is that one big wave that I rode till it planted my nose in the clammy sand at the edge of the beach. It was the ride that I will measure the rest of the summer and maybe the rest of my life by.