Emotional Stir - part 2

We arrive in Pass a Grille mid morning, our additional 4 hour jaunt through Alabama had actually benefited us as we had a completely different mind set, we're totally recharged.

Spring break was in full force about 4 miles up the beach in St. Petersburg, scantly clad vixens frolicking about, buff and stuff boy toys showing off their pecks; down in Pass a Grille things slow down quite a bit; poorly dressed men with black socks in sandals abound; I actually look pretty good in this crowd.

Cars stop for you as you cross the street, everyone strolling around like they didn't have a care in the world; historic 8th Avenue the shortest main st in America draws in artisans, beer runs cold, oh and the blackened grouper.

So now it starts; it's like going back in time as little has changed in Pass a Grille in my 51 years of coming down here; I actually start getting a little choked up thinking of the past, family members no longer with us, the good times, the adventures. I tune out my surroundings going deep into thought, stirring the past gently; images of skim boarding, cutting bait, hot concrete and body surfing fill the voids.

My thoughts are interrupted by a faint voice in the present; Boo stating the obvious, "What's our plan?" In my state of emotional stir, deep in reflection I am not yet prepared to leave Pass a Grille for Shell Key; "Let's get a room", I say without hesitation.

Falling into the rhythm of the locale, we sashay for the Keystone motel on the corner of Gulf way and 8th avenue; upon entering sits a young woman in her twenties a close resemblance of a young girl I used to play with when I was down here as a kid.

Out of nowhere with no introduction I pose a random question, "By chance, are you Mary Jo's daughter?" "Why yes, and who are you? the blue eyed beauty replies. "I'm the guy your mom used to pick on in your grandparents pool some 45 years ago, your mom used to tease me a lot." "Well, your in luck, I have my mom on speaker phone right now" I look down, I am doomed, I am actually wearing crocks and black socks.

So I am not actually sure what I said or for how long I spoke with Mary Jo, but I am pretty sure I was reverted into a bumbling idiot, with a neon moron light over my head. surreal to say the least, while on speaker phone a gathering crowd entranced with our banter.

Dazed and confused like a little boy who just lost a hotdog to a swooping gull, I exit with key in hand; find Boo talking with some 20 something skate board surf type (mentally throat punch him) and we meander to our motel room.

to be continued...