So today is the Day Two of my vacation. I count only my actual time off as vacation, by the way. My wife and I left Midland on Saturday morning so we have been "out of town" now for actually most of four days.
(ASIDE: CHILD A!! PLEASE don't forget to feed the fish!)
As I was saying, Monday was actually the first day of my vacation, and the first full day of the convention my lovely bride is attending in Houston. I chose to come with her (at her request) so I am "on vacation," while my lovely bride is here on company time. I chose not to write about Monday in my blog because not much out of the ordinary happened on Monday here in Angleton, Texas, United States of America, except that it rained all day...and I do mean kitties and puppies!
Now in West Texas, a rain of only a half inch can result in major flooding; however, in east Texas when it floods, it has been raining torrentially for a couple days. So Monday, I was thwarted most of the day in my attempt to go beachcombing. My brother-in-law asked me why I was not out hunting seashells in the rain, since probably few people would be at the beach on such a day. I am sure he was right about that part, because tornado warnings were being issued for parts nearby, so yes, probably few people were on the beach. But I explained to him that mainly I was not on the beach in the rain because I did not have a raincoat. Okay, bear with me, guys. It was EARLY Monday morning. Upon hearing this, my brother-in-law quite correctly pointed out that my purpose in going to the beach, aside from finding shells up above the high-tide mark, included wading in the water to look for them. Umm....oh, yeah, so really I did not need a raincoat after all. The short version (notwithstanding the above several lines) is that I did make it to the beach Monday afternoon when the sky cleared and the thermostat turned up to 88 degrees F. But beyond that, and the fact that my lovely bride had to drive in the torrential rain from Angleton to Houston, basically nothing happened on Monday, vacation-wise.
Tuesday...
Well, my friends, Tuesday can only be classified as "a whole 'nother story," as we hillbillies/rednecks are fond of saying. I have to say that had I known what lay in store for me and my lovely bride this day, I probably would have stayed in bed after my lovely bride once again departed for Houston. Actually, I DID stay in bed until around 9:00 AM. I am, after all, on vacation. So a little after nine of the clock I arose and got dressed. I was ready to head for the beach (rain over!) but I had a couple of errands to run in town first. So I was doing some shopping when the phone rang and my brother-in-law, one of the heroes of this story - by the way - invited me to dine with him and his lovely wife at a small little place in Alvin called "The Caboose." This is a barbeque joint at which I have never had the pleasure of dining in the past. I was just about to embark on another sorty to the beach but the idea of a two-meat barbeque plate reluctantly replaced my desire for shell-hunting, at least for the lunch hour, so I indeed joined my "in-laws" for lunch.
I know, you are all asking what is so "special" about this "adventure" so far. Aside from the good food and good company, nothing. But, to paraphrase a familiar military quote, let me just tell you I have not yet BEGUN to write!
Just as I was finishing the last mouthwatering bites of Caboose barbeque, my lovely bride rang in on the cell phone and asked if I had already eaten lunch, because she was hungry...and also (don't tell anyone!) she left the convention a little early today because apparently a particular presentation was not to her liking, so she decided to return to our local base of operations (my afore-mentioned brother-in-law's home) and then we could go to lunch. For reasons I cannot explain, my lovely bride sounded somewhat upset that I had dined with her brother and sister-in-law but had not asked her to join. I mentioned that the convention was not over for the day, but she explained to me that the convention WAS INDEED over for the day, and she was hungry! So I did the gentlemanly thing and brought lunch to my lovely bride. She ate her limit and then said those eight fateful words: Do you want to go to the beach?
I firmly believe that Karma had decreed that I go to the beach alone early on Tuesday morning; however, Karma being as unfathomable as any woman, including my lovely bride, I had no way of knowing that my deviation from Karma's plan would have such potentially DIRE consequences. Foolish me!
Those eight little words. But of so much fate they bore! I wonder how many great wars have been started by a woman uttering those words, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Who can say? Perhaps some inviting lady asked Hannibal, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Knowing that the shortest path to the beach lay across the Swiss Alps, Hannibal put all those elephants to a quite unexpected but very good use. On the way to the sunny seashore Hannibal paused long enough to lay waste to much of the Roman countryside.
But I digress...
Sweetie asked, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Of course I wanted to go to the beach so I quickly agreed. Again, I had no idea that Karma was so upset with me for not having followed her plan involving my arrival at the beach earlier this morning. So we changed into beach attire, loaded up with Sonic drinks, made a quick stop at Wal-Mart (I know, this sounds like an oxymoron or oxenmoron or whatever that word is) but we really did get in and out of the LJ Wal-Mart in record time. Then on to the beach! Except, like I said, Karma was upset with me.
I know the way to Surfside Beach like I know the back of my hand, but today for some reason I did not look at the back of my hand. I think I was noting to my wife the demise of a cat that should never have been trying to cross a major highway like Texas 288, when she noted to me that I had just missed the exit to Surfside. Never mind, I said, the way we are going is not much longer. Of course, as soon as I spoke those words, all the traffic lights were suddenly programmed by Karma (I believe, anyway) to turn red, one at the time. Karma's strategy effectively increased the travel time from Freeport to Surfside by at least thirty minutes, giving her enough time to set her dastardly plan into action! Read on.
After stopping at every red light in Freeport and then some in the county on the way to Surfside, we FINALLY arrived at "the beach." It is at this point that Karma made my lovely bride an unwitting partner in her sinister scheme to ruin this little outing to the beach by stranding us there. I had decided to go into Surfside Beach and park along the street then we could walk down to the pedestrian beach. From the pedestrian beach we could follow our usual route along the sand to the jetty, or we could walk east into Surfside beach. Either way my plan was to look for seashells as we strolled along.
Just as I was about to turn into Surfside Beach, Karma possessed my lovely bride's lovely lips and forced her to say, "Let's go down Bluewater Highway a little ways." I should have instantly recognized that my wife was possessed, but I did not. I was fooled probably because I wanted to look at houses along Bluewater Highway that might be for sale. Not that we would buy a house there, mind you, but I was always "looking." So, completely unaware of Karma's sadistic itinerary, I turned to the east and we drove down Bluewater Highway. Soon we were well beyond the normal reaches of our beach journeys, and I should have felt the hairs on the nape of my neck tingling, but I did not. Just the opposite, in fact. I said to my lovely bride, "I am glad we decided to turn THIS way." Hmmm, was that Karma I heard I heard snickering? And maybe it was here that Karma took over my mind as well.
As we drove slowly along Bluewater Highway, my lovely bride and I did indeed scope out a few houses, but then my wife (in Karma's full control, I am sure!) suggested, "Why don't we drive to Galveston?"
Feeling under some strange influence myself, I said, "Yes, why don't we!"
Still possessed by Karma, my lovely bride then said, "Hey, let's go down to the beach HERE!"
At this point I had no clear idea of where "here" was, except that we were somewhere between Surfside Beach and Galveston. And, like I said, I must have been somehow made an unwilling partner of Karma myself because I immediately, unable to do otherwise, turned into the beach access road and then drove onto a wild section of beach at least six miles east of Surfside Beach, the village. Then I did something REALLY weird. I know the concept of ME doing something "weird" will be very difficult for some of you to grasp, but again, I was definitely being swayed by forces beyond my understanding or control.
I found myself in some sort of Karmatically-induced haze in which I heard my lovely bride say, "Just park somewhere safe and let's get out." My hands, under control of those same unseen forces, drove the car into an area of the beach just at the very highest tideline, and I thought (very foolishly) that the car would be safe here while Sweetie and I took our walk along the beach. At this point, the only things we did right were: 1) put on sunscreen (Sweetie insists on 500 SPF!); 2) picked up a large bottle of water and my hat; and, 3) grabbed a bag of corn nuts snacks. Then, Karma once again asserted herself.
Karma, in the form of a rare brainstorm for me, rose up and forced me to take actions which I thought were very strange and alarming even as my broken will yielded to Karma's evil plan. I took a step toward the beach then decided I did not want to carry the car keys with me for the upcoming beach stroll. So I unloaded all of my pockets and even removed my cell phone. I placed these items in the floorboard, then, in what seemed like a stroke of genius to me, but, as I have said, was actually Karma possessing my faculties, I came up with a rock-solid, foolproof plan for booth concealing the car keys and not having to carry them myself. I grabbed a big batch of dead seaweed, plopped the car keys down in the sand, and covered the keys with the seaweed. I cleverly used a plastic drain cap, recently deposited on the beach by the latest storm, to subtly mark the spot. I thought I had done a great job! What thief would think of looking under tons of seaweed to find the keys to a beachgoer's car? Yes, I told myself, this was indeed a plan!
Karma again, using Sweetie's voice: Honey, what are you doing?
I told her.
My lovely:bride, under Karma's control: Honey, that is ridiculous!
Me: But Sweetie, NO ONE would think of looking under all this seaweed.
My lovely bride: Okay, fine (we men KNOW when our women say "Fine" things are NOT "Fine.").
But I cleverly left the keys concealed there anyway.
Sweetie and I strolled along the beach for a couple of hundred feet, then Karma stuck her hand into Sweetie's back. "Honey, that makes me nervous. Go get the keys and I will carry them MYSELF!"
Then I felt my body being turned by forces unknown back toward the car. My feet began walking slowly to the car as if suddenly grafted onto a stranger. I (my free self) KNEW that the keys were safe, but I (my Karma-puppeteered self) could not stop. I went back to the seaweed in front of the car, dug up the car keys, and, in zombie-like motion, handed them over to my lovely bride. She did not want to carry the keys any more than did I, but Karma was running things. Next thing, my lovely bride had inserted the keys between her ample bosoms in her swimming suit and was strolling up the beach, satisfied that the keys were safe (Honey later explained to me that she KNEW not to place the keys "there," but "something" made her do it. Karma strikes again!).
Karma, having successfully coerced my lovely bride into placing the keys in her bosoms, then placed the both of us into a sort of enchantment (or maybe the ocean itself did it) so that both of us forgot all about the keys my lovely bride carried in the intimate section of the uppermost part of her bathing suit. We began earnestly searching for any collectible seashells deposited by the receding tide. The storm had delivered many seashells, but alas, the collectible shells were all smashed to smithereens. By the time we had walked nearly a mile down the beach, we only had a few fragments of shells to show for our efforts. So we turned back toward the direction from which we had come and began walking toward our distant car. That's when Karma POUNCED on us!!
As we walked Honey suddenly stopped in her tracks. I saw her patting her swimming suit as if she were frisking herself prior to being arrested. Then she said, "Honey, are the keys in your pocket?"
"Keys? Umm...you have the keys, Sweetie."
"Didn't I give you the keys when I put the corn nuts into your pocket?"
"No. You just put the corn nuts into my pocket. Why?"
I see Sweetie now quite excitedly patting her chest, then up down her sides. She even checked the BOTTOM of her swimming suit, but no keys. Then it hit her...then it hit ME! The keys were in the water!!
It was at this point Karma relinquished my body and mind back to me and I realized the direness of our situation. The car keys were gone forever, swirling down into the depths of Davy Jones's locker. And there was only about ten hours until the tide came rolling back in. And the car, while at the high tide mark, was not ABOVE the high tide mark. And we were strangers in these parts so it might be HOURS before we could get help. And our CELL PHONES were locked in the CAR! And Karma was laughing her fool head off at us!
Cell phones. Do you know what cell phones have done to the human race over the past couple of decades? The smartness of our "smart phones" has led to the reduced "smartness" of our own brains. Young people may not know this, but prior to the advent of cell phones and other portable "devices" people had to either "memorize" important phone numbers or "write" the important phone numbers into a small "notebook" or other "paper" implement. I had my first cell phone in the early '90s, and by the first year of the new millennium my memory was mush. So the sheer shock of not being able to access my cell phone (locked in the car, of course) sort of FROZE my brain for a couple of minutes. Yes, I could borrow some friendly swimmer's cell phone, that was not the problem. The problem was that I did not KNOW ANY OF MY IMPORTANT phone numbers. It turns out that neither did Sweetie! So even if we HAD a cell phone, we would not be able to call anyone. WE DID NOT KNOW OUR IMPORTANT NUMBERS!
Free note to my readers: The above COULD be a valuable point. It would definitely pay to memorize at least one or two important phone numbers.
As Sweetie and I made our way back toward the parked car, we paused to ask two fellow beachgoers if we could use their cell phone. These were two young men, about early college age, and they gladly let us use a cell phone. Sweetie's brain beat mine back to function mode, so she came up with a plan. We "Googled" the local church my most helpful uncle attends and luckily were able to get the his phone number from the church secretary. Then it struck me, we had no means of recording the phone number. One of the two young men told the other to find something with which we could write. The young man ran to his car and quickly returned with a pen. His friend looked at him, looked at the pen, then said, "Dude! Paper!" The first young man looked rather sheepish and returned to his car in search of a piece of paper. Like I said, my lovely bride regained the full use of her faculties while I was still in BRAIN FREEZE. She told me to have the church secretary repeat the telephone number, which I did, and my lovely bride recorded it into the sand. Just then the first young man arrived with the piece of paper.
Soon rescue was on the way for my lovely bride and I, but the car was still a problem. Obviously we needed a wrecker, but without the keys the wrecker driver would not be able to unlock the steering column or release the emergency break. I always set the emergency brake even on the flattest of flat parking spots. But Karma, busy working up her plan for me, had been so busy that she forgot to let me remember to set the parking break. First time in years! So we returned to our car, but we were still not out of the woods, so to speak. Before a wrecker could come to our rescue we had to be able to call the wrecker company. And we had no cell phone. The helpful young men were set up over half a mile from the car. There were some people close to our car, but none of them had a cell phone. What to do!
At this point Karma must have been appeased for whatever trespass I or we had committed. The people who did not have a phone directed us to the office of the resort next to our car, and they let us borrow a writing pen so that we could record our car's VIN. The VIN would allow a locksmith to fashion and program a new key for the car. The problem now was whether or not we could get a tow truck to pull the car off the beach before the next high tide. This proved to be a minor worry because the first tow company we called (recommended by the most helpful proprietor of the Peregrine Townhomes - whose phone we were now using) was able to move the car within another forty-five minutes. By the time the wrecker arrived, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were on the scene. He and she were very helpful, a few guffaws on his part notwithstanding.
We followed the tow truck back to my brother-in-law's home. Once there the wrecker driver released the vehicle and went his way, with our thanks. But we still had a locked vehicle, with cell phones, wallets, and purses all locked inside. While on the beach we had talked with a locksmith. He told us he was very busy but he could probably come by around 7PM and cut a key for the car. He also programmed the remote key so that it would actually start the car, not just unlock it. The locksmith arrived as promised, but apparently he too had upset Karma, because she called in a monster thunder and lightning storm while the young man worked in the driveway. In spite of the storm, the locksmith finished his work quickly. Now my lovely bride will be able to return to her convention tomorrow.
Tomorrow if my lovely bride says to me, "Do you want to go to the beach?" I will tell her...I will tell her..."Yes, of course I want to go to the beach! Do you want to carry the car keys in your bosoms, or should I bury them under some seaweed like I started to yesterday?"
(Note: The time and date of my funeral will be announced later.)
(ASIDE: CHILD A!! PLEASE don't forget to feed the fish!)
As I was saying, Monday was actually the first day of my vacation, and the first full day of the convention my lovely bride is attending in Houston. I chose to come with her (at her request) so I am "on vacation," while my lovely bride is here on company time. I chose not to write about Monday in my blog because not much out of the ordinary happened on Monday here in Angleton, Texas, United States of America, except that it rained all day...and I do mean kitties and puppies!
Now in West Texas, a rain of only a half inch can result in major flooding; however, in east Texas when it floods, it has been raining torrentially for a couple days. So Monday, I was thwarted most of the day in my attempt to go beachcombing. My brother-in-law asked me why I was not out hunting seashells in the rain, since probably few people would be at the beach on such a day. I am sure he was right about that part, because tornado warnings were being issued for parts nearby, so yes, probably few people were on the beach. But I explained to him that mainly I was not on the beach in the rain because I did not have a raincoat. Okay, bear with me, guys. It was EARLY Monday morning. Upon hearing this, my brother-in-law quite correctly pointed out that my purpose in going to the beach, aside from finding shells up above the high-tide mark, included wading in the water to look for them. Umm....oh, yeah, so really I did not need a raincoat after all. The short version (notwithstanding the above several lines) is that I did make it to the beach Monday afternoon when the sky cleared and the thermostat turned up to 88 degrees F. But beyond that, and the fact that my lovely bride had to drive in the torrential rain from Angleton to Houston, basically nothing happened on Monday, vacation-wise.
Tuesday...
Well, my friends, Tuesday can only be classified as "a whole 'nother story," as we hillbillies/rednecks are fond of saying. I have to say that had I known what lay in store for me and my lovely bride this day, I probably would have stayed in bed after my lovely bride once again departed for Houston. Actually, I DID stay in bed until around 9:00 AM. I am, after all, on vacation. So a little after nine of the clock I arose and got dressed. I was ready to head for the beach (rain over!) but I had a couple of errands to run in town first. So I was doing some shopping when the phone rang and my brother-in-law, one of the heroes of this story - by the way - invited me to dine with him and his lovely wife at a small little place in Alvin called "The Caboose." This is a barbeque joint at which I have never had the pleasure of dining in the past. I was just about to embark on another sorty to the beach but the idea of a two-meat barbeque plate reluctantly replaced my desire for shell-hunting, at least for the lunch hour, so I indeed joined my "in-laws" for lunch.
I know, you are all asking what is so "special" about this "adventure" so far. Aside from the good food and good company, nothing. But, to paraphrase a familiar military quote, let me just tell you I have not yet BEGUN to write!
Just as I was finishing the last mouthwatering bites of Caboose barbeque, my lovely bride rang in on the cell phone and asked if I had already eaten lunch, because she was hungry...and also (don't tell anyone!) she left the convention a little early today because apparently a particular presentation was not to her liking, so she decided to return to our local base of operations (my afore-mentioned brother-in-law's home) and then we could go to lunch. For reasons I cannot explain, my lovely bride sounded somewhat upset that I had dined with her brother and sister-in-law but had not asked her to join. I mentioned that the convention was not over for the day, but she explained to me that the convention WAS INDEED over for the day, and she was hungry! So I did the gentlemanly thing and brought lunch to my lovely bride. She ate her limit and then said those eight fateful words: Do you want to go to the beach?
I firmly believe that Karma had decreed that I go to the beach alone early on Tuesday morning; however, Karma being as unfathomable as any woman, including my lovely bride, I had no way of knowing that my deviation from Karma's plan would have such potentially DIRE consequences. Foolish me!
Those eight little words. But of so much fate they bore! I wonder how many great wars have been started by a woman uttering those words, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Who can say? Perhaps some inviting lady asked Hannibal, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Knowing that the shortest path to the beach lay across the Swiss Alps, Hannibal put all those elephants to a quite unexpected but very good use. On the way to the sunny seashore Hannibal paused long enough to lay waste to much of the Roman countryside.
But I digress...
Sweetie asked, "Do you want to go to the beach?" Of course I wanted to go to the beach so I quickly agreed. Again, I had no idea that Karma was so upset with me for not having followed her plan involving my arrival at the beach earlier this morning. So we changed into beach attire, loaded up with Sonic drinks, made a quick stop at Wal-Mart (I know, this sounds like an oxymoron or oxenmoron or whatever that word is) but we really did get in and out of the LJ Wal-Mart in record time. Then on to the beach! Except, like I said, Karma was upset with me.
I know the way to Surfside Beach like I know the back of my hand, but today for some reason I did not look at the back of my hand. I think I was noting to my wife the demise of a cat that should never have been trying to cross a major highway like Texas 288, when she noted to me that I had just missed the exit to Surfside. Never mind, I said, the way we are going is not much longer. Of course, as soon as I spoke those words, all the traffic lights were suddenly programmed by Karma (I believe, anyway) to turn red, one at the time. Karma's strategy effectively increased the travel time from Freeport to Surfside by at least thirty minutes, giving her enough time to set her dastardly plan into action! Read on.
After stopping at every red light in Freeport and then some in the county on the way to Surfside, we FINALLY arrived at "the beach." It is at this point that Karma made my lovely bride an unwitting partner in her sinister scheme to ruin this little outing to the beach by stranding us there. I had decided to go into Surfside Beach and park along the street then we could walk down to the pedestrian beach. From the pedestrian beach we could follow our usual route along the sand to the jetty, or we could walk east into Surfside beach. Either way my plan was to look for seashells as we strolled along.
Just as I was about to turn into Surfside Beach, Karma possessed my lovely bride's lovely lips and forced her to say, "Let's go down Bluewater Highway a little ways." I should have instantly recognized that my wife was possessed, but I did not. I was fooled probably because I wanted to look at houses along Bluewater Highway that might be for sale. Not that we would buy a house there, mind you, but I was always "looking." So, completely unaware of Karma's sadistic itinerary, I turned to the east and we drove down Bluewater Highway. Soon we were well beyond the normal reaches of our beach journeys, and I should have felt the hairs on the nape of my neck tingling, but I did not. Just the opposite, in fact. I said to my lovely bride, "I am glad we decided to turn THIS way." Hmmm, was that Karma I heard I heard snickering? And maybe it was here that Karma took over my mind as well.
As we drove slowly along Bluewater Highway, my lovely bride and I did indeed scope out a few houses, but then my wife (in Karma's full control, I am sure!) suggested, "Why don't we drive to Galveston?"
Feeling under some strange influence myself, I said, "Yes, why don't we!"
Still possessed by Karma, my lovely bride then said, "Hey, let's go down to the beach HERE!"
At this point I had no clear idea of where "here" was, except that we were somewhere between Surfside Beach and Galveston. And, like I said, I must have been somehow made an unwilling partner of Karma myself because I immediately, unable to do otherwise, turned into the beach access road and then drove onto a wild section of beach at least six miles east of Surfside Beach, the village. Then I did something REALLY weird. I know the concept of ME doing something "weird" will be very difficult for some of you to grasp, but again, I was definitely being swayed by forces beyond my understanding or control.
I found myself in some sort of Karmatically-induced haze in which I heard my lovely bride say, "Just park somewhere safe and let's get out." My hands, under control of those same unseen forces, drove the car into an area of the beach just at the very highest tideline, and I thought (very foolishly) that the car would be safe here while Sweetie and I took our walk along the beach. At this point, the only things we did right were: 1) put on sunscreen (Sweetie insists on 500 SPF!); 2) picked up a large bottle of water and my hat; and, 3) grabbed a bag of corn nuts snacks. Then, Karma once again asserted herself.
Karma, in the form of a rare brainstorm for me, rose up and forced me to take actions which I thought were very strange and alarming even as my broken will yielded to Karma's evil plan. I took a step toward the beach then decided I did not want to carry the car keys with me for the upcoming beach stroll. So I unloaded all of my pockets and even removed my cell phone. I placed these items in the floorboard, then, in what seemed like a stroke of genius to me, but, as I have said, was actually Karma possessing my faculties, I came up with a rock-solid, foolproof plan for booth concealing the car keys and not having to carry them myself. I grabbed a big batch of dead seaweed, plopped the car keys down in the sand, and covered the keys with the seaweed. I cleverly used a plastic drain cap, recently deposited on the beach by the latest storm, to subtly mark the spot. I thought I had done a great job! What thief would think of looking under tons of seaweed to find the keys to a beachgoer's car? Yes, I told myself, this was indeed a plan!
Karma again, using Sweetie's voice: Honey, what are you doing?
I told her.
My lovely:bride, under Karma's control: Honey, that is ridiculous!
Me: But Sweetie, NO ONE would think of looking under all this seaweed.
My lovely bride: Okay, fine (we men KNOW when our women say "Fine" things are NOT "Fine.").
But I cleverly left the keys concealed there anyway.
Sweetie and I strolled along the beach for a couple of hundred feet, then Karma stuck her hand into Sweetie's back. "Honey, that makes me nervous. Go get the keys and I will carry them MYSELF!"
Then I felt my body being turned by forces unknown back toward the car. My feet began walking slowly to the car as if suddenly grafted onto a stranger. I (my free self) KNEW that the keys were safe, but I (my Karma-puppeteered self) could not stop. I went back to the seaweed in front of the car, dug up the car keys, and, in zombie-like motion, handed them over to my lovely bride. She did not want to carry the keys any more than did I, but Karma was running things. Next thing, my lovely bride had inserted the keys between her ample bosoms in her swimming suit and was strolling up the beach, satisfied that the keys were safe (Honey later explained to me that she KNEW not to place the keys "there," but "something" made her do it. Karma strikes again!).
Karma, having successfully coerced my lovely bride into placing the keys in her bosoms, then placed the both of us into a sort of enchantment (or maybe the ocean itself did it) so that both of us forgot all about the keys my lovely bride carried in the intimate section of the uppermost part of her bathing suit. We began earnestly searching for any collectible seashells deposited by the receding tide. The storm had delivered many seashells, but alas, the collectible shells were all smashed to smithereens. By the time we had walked nearly a mile down the beach, we only had a few fragments of shells to show for our efforts. So we turned back toward the direction from which we had come and began walking toward our distant car. That's when Karma POUNCED on us!!
As we walked Honey suddenly stopped in her tracks. I saw her patting her swimming suit as if she were frisking herself prior to being arrested. Then she said, "Honey, are the keys in your pocket?"
"Keys? Umm...you have the keys, Sweetie."
"Didn't I give you the keys when I put the corn nuts into your pocket?"
"No. You just put the corn nuts into my pocket. Why?"
I see Sweetie now quite excitedly patting her chest, then up down her sides. She even checked the BOTTOM of her swimming suit, but no keys. Then it hit her...then it hit ME! The keys were in the water!!
It was at this point Karma relinquished my body and mind back to me and I realized the direness of our situation. The car keys were gone forever, swirling down into the depths of Davy Jones's locker. And there was only about ten hours until the tide came rolling back in. And the car, while at the high tide mark, was not ABOVE the high tide mark. And we were strangers in these parts so it might be HOURS before we could get help. And our CELL PHONES were locked in the CAR! And Karma was laughing her fool head off at us!
Cell phones. Do you know what cell phones have done to the human race over the past couple of decades? The smartness of our "smart phones" has led to the reduced "smartness" of our own brains. Young people may not know this, but prior to the advent of cell phones and other portable "devices" people had to either "memorize" important phone numbers or "write" the important phone numbers into a small "notebook" or other "paper" implement. I had my first cell phone in the early '90s, and by the first year of the new millennium my memory was mush. So the sheer shock of not being able to access my cell phone (locked in the car, of course) sort of FROZE my brain for a couple of minutes. Yes, I could borrow some friendly swimmer's cell phone, that was not the problem. The problem was that I did not KNOW ANY OF MY IMPORTANT phone numbers. It turns out that neither did Sweetie! So even if we HAD a cell phone, we would not be able to call anyone. WE DID NOT KNOW OUR IMPORTANT NUMBERS!
Free note to my readers: The above COULD be a valuable point. It would definitely pay to memorize at least one or two important phone numbers.
As Sweetie and I made our way back toward the parked car, we paused to ask two fellow beachgoers if we could use their cell phone. These were two young men, about early college age, and they gladly let us use a cell phone. Sweetie's brain beat mine back to function mode, so she came up with a plan. We "Googled" the local church my most helpful uncle attends and luckily were able to get the his phone number from the church secretary. Then it struck me, we had no means of recording the phone number. One of the two young men told the other to find something with which we could write. The young man ran to his car and quickly returned with a pen. His friend looked at him, looked at the pen, then said, "Dude! Paper!" The first young man looked rather sheepish and returned to his car in search of a piece of paper. Like I said, my lovely bride regained the full use of her faculties while I was still in BRAIN FREEZE. She told me to have the church secretary repeat the telephone number, which I did, and my lovely bride recorded it into the sand. Just then the first young man arrived with the piece of paper.
Soon rescue was on the way for my lovely bride and I, but the car was still a problem. Obviously we needed a wrecker, but without the keys the wrecker driver would not be able to unlock the steering column or release the emergency break. I always set the emergency brake even on the flattest of flat parking spots. But Karma, busy working up her plan for me, had been so busy that she forgot to let me remember to set the parking break. First time in years! So we returned to our car, but we were still not out of the woods, so to speak. Before a wrecker could come to our rescue we had to be able to call the wrecker company. And we had no cell phone. The helpful young men were set up over half a mile from the car. There were some people close to our car, but none of them had a cell phone. What to do!
At this point Karma must have been appeased for whatever trespass I or we had committed. The people who did not have a phone directed us to the office of the resort next to our car, and they let us borrow a writing pen so that we could record our car's VIN. The VIN would allow a locksmith to fashion and program a new key for the car. The problem now was whether or not we could get a tow truck to pull the car off the beach before the next high tide. This proved to be a minor worry because the first tow company we called (recommended by the most helpful proprietor of the Peregrine Townhomes - whose phone we were now using) was able to move the car within another forty-five minutes. By the time the wrecker arrived, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were on the scene. He and she were very helpful, a few guffaws on his part notwithstanding.
We followed the tow truck back to my brother-in-law's home. Once there the wrecker driver released the vehicle and went his way, with our thanks. But we still had a locked vehicle, with cell phones, wallets, and purses all locked inside. While on the beach we had talked with a locksmith. He told us he was very busy but he could probably come by around 7PM and cut a key for the car. He also programmed the remote key so that it would actually start the car, not just unlock it. The locksmith arrived as promised, but apparently he too had upset Karma, because she called in a monster thunder and lightning storm while the young man worked in the driveway. In spite of the storm, the locksmith finished his work quickly. Now my lovely bride will be able to return to her convention tomorrow.
Tomorrow if my lovely bride says to me, "Do you want to go to the beach?" I will tell her...I will tell her..."Yes, of course I want to go to the beach! Do you want to carry the car keys in your bosoms, or should I bury them under some seaweed like I started to yesterday?"
(Note: The time and date of my funeral will be announced later.)
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