Emotional Stir - part 2

My mind starts to clear of the fantasy (****) fest with Mary Jo; Boo calls first shower, I drop off my bag to the room and make my way down to the beach and grab some bench. This could be an hour or two of beach meditation as a teenage girl left to her own, with a bathroom, with 6 towels could be awhile; I've been set free.

I am not sure what is going on, I am a mess, an emotional shipwreck. I'm feeling light headed; Did I get into some bad sushi? Could it be the constant presence of my mom passing 6 years ago this month and the emotional stir of Pass a Grille? No, it is my subconscious telling me I still have black socks on. "Lose the socks moron".

I settle in, I settle down; I melt into the sound of the waves and the unspoken chatter of the beach; Kite surfer darts to and fro; the ooh and ahhs like fireworks on the Forth of July. Wind masks a hot sun; I make a break for the sunscreen conveniently stashed in a cargo pocket.

I reflect deeply on Marissa and Emily being the 4th generation of our family to visit this area; I am disheartened that Emily could not make it down with us. This is the second spring-break in a row she has missed as her school and now her work takes precedence. My thoughts dissipate as I see a severely handicapped man scooter on up to the edge viewing area. I take pause, mind darts to work left incomplete on my desk; I shake it off and get my head wrapped around the beach and the present.

This doesn't last long as it appears the man in the scooter needs some assistance, my worries are fleeting as a young gentleman assists with out hesitation; there is hope for the future a new generation of care giver emerges.

The beach in all its glory has away of soothing the lonely; I scan the area and see many elderly people sitting quietly, alone. Is this my destiny? I ponder my options as I readjust the black socks crammed in my pocket.

to be continued...

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...

Emotional Stir - part 1

Hard right rudder and we are back to the freeway I-75, we spot a rest area for morning rituals. "Let's stop" she says with batting eyes and a sense of urgency.

I am not fond of rest areas, for stories of highway pirates and teenage fugitive druglords proceed us. The sign boasts nighttime security, screw that, I am not comforted by this thought as the guy in the orange vest and a severe case of fabric abuse (56" waistline) seems to be our first line of defense. We press forward as the need for a bathroom takes precedence over safety.

I follow Boo towards restrooms, my first thought, her safety; never mind that I left the keys in the jeep and $800 in cash with a come get me sign attached. Marissa makes her way in and I return to the jeep; crap...damn gawkers.

If you travel with a decked canoe the size of a school bus on top of your vehicle, you get gawkers. "What the heck sort a boat is this", he says with the faint smell of BO only dwarfed by his horrid breath. I return banter, "A "F"ing canoe, dumb ass!!" OK I recant, I made pleasantries and talked of legends and lore, what this craft is made for etc etc... Damn I need to use the rest room.

Back on the road without incident, we push forward warming sun to the east, nar' a cloud in the sky. Not two minutes down the road, Wait for it.... "What's for breakfast?", she chirps. Pouncing on the food bag and cooler, our bird of prey sort through the options.

to be continued...

Emotional Stir - part 1

As the weary sleep, I am comforted by my thoughts; I immediately go to fond memories of trips past; the hours and miles click by, fuel purchased fuel spent; road trip treats within arms reach, these are great days my friend; We are jolly bluewater giants traversing the earth. A full moon golden in color lights the way.

Decision time; meeting of the minds called to order. Do we go the long and winding road south through Alabama or do we throw caution to the wind and go through Chicago and Atlanta? Took about two seconds to decide. Those that are awake vote; unanimously decided, we head for the road less traveled; Boo awakes, "where are we, what time is it?"...

This ended up being an outstanding decision, no traffic, no tolls, no hassle and the Alabama countryside beautiful.. Who'd a thought they had paved roads in Alabama? We took the 110 out of Montgomery which offered small towns and scenic countryside.

A thousand mile + day of driving put us deep in the south east of Alabama, we car camped at a truck stop which offered 24 hour bathrooms and coffee. I never met a friendlier bunch of people, it was like we were their guests. I don't recall the name of the town as I was suffering from a severe case of white line fever, but it could easily be renamed Hospitality -ville.

A quick 4 hour nap and we were roadworthy again; is it too early for peach pie?

to be continued...

Emotional Stir - part 1

My earliest recollection of the water is at age 3; standing in a wading pool behind my grandfather's house with a garden hose in my hand. This would be the start of my fascination with sea; This is why we are headed south to the gulf; Youngest daughter in tow, packing heavy for comfort, timing couldn't be better . The sea beckons, paradise lies waiting. This is going to be a great trip.

Road tripping in a beat up jeep is priceless; driver's window held up by a fork wedge in the framework; radio stolen years ago, cracks in the windshield like lines on a chart showing us the way. Sixteen dollar pipe rack secures a boat twice its value; our hope chest filled with excitement as we head out before the dawn. Kick the tires check the oil, let the adventure begin.

The 3:00am start was a bold move, one never knows how a teen age girl of 15 will respond to, "it's time to get up and go". What makes this note worthy, is my travel companion is up and ready; she figured it out, the quicker she gets in the jeep the sooner she can fall back to sleep and like a sweater on the third date, we're off.

to be continued...

Emotional Stir - by Capt'n O Dark 30

Prelude

The story you are about to experience is one of fact and fiction; names like Oconomowoc, Pass a Grille and Shell Key will intrigue.

Hemingway Twain London inspired, with a dab of Hunter S. Thompson to quill the mind; there will be no car chases, no steamy encounters of lovers rolling in the surf , no explosions except for the creation and demise of the stars above and possibly a ghost ship carrying contraband.

Settle in over the next few weeks and read with earnest; for it is for you this is written.

Still Packing....

Somewhere between the absurd and necessity we find ourselves bringing everything but the flat screen; I must confess, Marissa has 2 bags and well.... the rest is mine, well ours for all the creature comforts. I like to think of it as an extended camping resort picnic.

All of that has to fit into this; we'll be fine unless I have to do a two haul carry to the island we are staying on and then I wont hear the end of it. Hopefully a few of the boys and gals from the WaterTribe will venture out to see us; indulging in cocktail and mirth.
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Marissa has clearly stated her goal is to get tan; a quick check of the weather, next week is looking pretty good. So we are off on another Spring Break Adventure, SPOT will be activiated which can be seen top right of this page.
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ETA to Florida - Saturday 4-7-12

The Capt'n