I haven’t seen Rich and Barb lately, so they might be preparing for another cruise or already be on one. You never know with them. So, in total, we have maybe 18 people here, three of whom we haven’t seen in the past few days and may or may not be presently residing on the premises. And of the remaining 15, we see all of them almost regularly at happy hour, the beach, or somewhere around the building throughout the day, and none of them appear sick, so that’s a relief.
Anyway, it’s a nice change of pace around here, a situation we really haven’t experienced before. It’s quiet, and it’s kind of nice that way. Usually there are kids running around, yelling, shooting off bottle rockets, and leaving their pool toys all over the place. And every year on the 4th of July, without fail, the renters come in from the beach, sopping wet and sandy, and manage to break the elevator. They put their sand-covered keys into the elevator lock (a security feature that prevents random people from accessing the upper-level units) and jam it up. Or the elevator just gives out under the stress of the heightened holiday activity after having its doors wrenched open by over-anxious kids or from trying to close on an array of swim noodles, inner tubes, and boogie boards. That or the pool filter gets filled up with sand from all the people coming in from the beach and jumping in the pool to clean off rather than using the hose. Or the chemical levels that keep the pool safe and sanitary get out of whack from overuse. Or the condo parking lot is filled to capacity and there is nowhere to park because the tourists are using it for overflow parking. Or the paramedics show up to treat the guy who passed out at the beach access picnic table on a 98-degree day because he chose to hydrate with vodka rather than water. I could go on, but my hand is starting to hurt.
Our building was built in the early-60s, and while well maintained, its components must weather the salty sea air non-stop. So when usage of things like the elevator, or the pool, or the beach access gate or whatever else suddenly go from zero to sixty in just a few days, such breakdowns and foul-ups are bound to occur. Then the owners are left to foot the bills or deal with the mess the renters who treat this place like their private play land leave behind. Ah yes, the joys of the tourist season – a thrill-fest for the senses (with plenty of comic relief thrown in from all their antics). It’s all just part of beach life. It tends to go with the territory. But I digress. Anyway, it’s nice to see this place in a calmer state than we normally do – something different, something new.
August 29th
8:51 a.m.
I made the mistake of putting the news on this morning. It’s raining out, and it’s blowing onto the balcony, ruining my morning writing session outside. That’s why I’m in the living room with the television on. AJ is still sleeping, and Elizabeth is taking a shower. Just as well. I don’t want them seeing what I’m seeing on the news.
While I’ve done my best to ignore this flu thing, reality seems to have found a way of seeping into the dream world we try to create when we vacation here. I’ve even gone so far as to leave the cell phones at home when we’re out or, if we do take them, it’s only for photos – not texting, calls, emails, or anything else. We owe it to ourselves. Sometimes we just need a break from all that. It’s almost like a cleansing of the soul.
But this flu thing is apparently becoming impossible to ignore. They’re running news feeds of it non-stop. I guess it’s the latest big thing – the flavor of the week to get the news channel ratings up. And it DOES appear to be spreading. There are now hundreds of cases nationwide, and the hospitals seem to have no answer as to what to do with the patients who are arriving. They’re treating them as best they can, but with no flu vaccine, and with this particular strain apparently being very contagious and extremely dangerous, most of the patients are going straight into isolation. Worse yet, it seems that most, if not ALL of them are remaining there. It’s not as if these people are coming in, getting hooked up to IV’s to be re-hydrated or whatever and then returning home. They’re going in and staying there. And they’re advising people not to travel on airplanes. Ughhh, it gives me the willies just thinking about being stuck on airplane, hearing someone coughing and hacking behind me or beside me and wondering if they had the flu. God, how horrible! It makes me so thankful that we drove down.
Anyway, it’s time to ditch the negative thoughts and try to focus on the positive. We have a beach waiting for us out there and only about a week left to enjoy it, so we’d better stop counting our problems and start counting our blessings, it will be back to the daily grind before we know it. It really is amazing just how fast time goes when we’re here.
1:37 p.m.
The beach was awesome as usual. We’re having lunch now. Liz is going to the store after lunch. No matter how often we come here, we never seem to remember everything on our list during our first shopping excursion or two. I guess it’s because we don’t have everything here (sauces, dressings, spices, etc.) like we do at home. We don’t leave a huge supply of stuff behind when we leave since we don’t want to have to throw them all out when we return months later. Therefore, we often think of meals that we make at home to make down here, but we don’t have all the fixings like we do there.
The girls were down at the beach this morning (surprise, surprise). They were flying kites. AJ isn’t a big kite flyer, but he suddenly seemed interested when he saw the girls doing it. I tend to wonder if it was more the kites or the girls that piqued his interest.
Anyway, while they were playing, we heard this noise in the distance approaching from the south. A minute later, two A-10 “Warthog” aircraft soared right overhead at low altitude, following the coastline. It was pretty cool to say the least. I love that about Cocoa Beach. With Cape Canaveral one way, and the Air Force base the other, you get more action than just the beach.
Hold on!
1:58 p.m.
Sorry (although I don’t know who I’m apologizing to). I had to call AJ (Liz is already gone to the store). There was a big military drone flying along the coastline. It went right in front of our condo. It must be training day at the base or something. Like I said, there’s always something new and unexpected to see when we’re here.
When I was up getting AJ, I noticed the sky. It looks like rain to our west – very ominous clouds. Could be a good one, really send the beachgoers scrambling. Too bad it’s not that crowded on the beach today. Oh well, I’m sure there will be antics aplenty no matter what.
I love it here. Every time we visit, I find myself wondering why we don’t just move here. But I know better. While it’s a great place for vacationing, many of the things that make it that way – transient antics, too much drinking and partying, and a lot of seasonal work – don’t necessarily make it the best place for a secure living environment. I guess that’s like any city really. There are pros and cons, perks and detractors, benefits and costs, dreams and reality. It’s just hard to ignore the tantalizing option when this place always seems to wear the costume of enchanted kingdom. It’s like the siren singing her song, tempting us, luring us in. It makes it so damn hard for us to sail our ship in the other direction, but we have to remind ourselves of the potential recourse if we don’t. And a good walk on the beach usually serves to jog our memories, especially if we head in the direction of Pineapples. I think that when Liz gets back from the store, that’s exactly what we’ll do – take a walk. It’ll be a nice warm-up for happy hour.
Uh oh…what’s this? Hold on a minute, I need to check something out.
2:34 p.m.
Oh yeah, that’s beach life for you. So two carloads of 20-somethings just pulled up – beefcake boys and buxom broads all spilling. A few of them already had their bathing suits (or should I call them “loincloths” and “strings”) on. Several of the girls had come in short shorts and tank-tops, their “suits” still in their pants pockets.
Since there is no changing house or public restrooms at the beach access however, the girls were forced to perform one of oldest of beach rituals – the ‘car-side change’. This involve
s opening a car door while several of their friends hold up towels around the open door to create a makeshift changing booth. Then the person inside the ‘booth’ quickly strips down and dons their bathing suit. This can work almost perfectly. The only problems to the whole scenario occur if someone drops a towel, the wind is really kicking up and ripping at the towel ‘curtains’ or, as in this instance, you’re parked beneath a multi-story condo building with balconies overlooking the parking area.
Don’t worry. I don’t play ‘perverted old man’ leering down as the bronze beauties, lecherously invading their personal privacy. I don’t know if my good deed goes heeded by others in the complex. It’s probably the only way some of these old geezers get their kicks. But that’s their problem, not mine. I manage to keep my integrity intact and avoid the chance of my wife stumbling upon such a scene (although I’ll admit that she finds such scenes just as amusing), or my 12-year-old son getting the wrong idea.
3:19 p.m.
I’ve got the drink cozies out – soda for AJ, beers for Mom and Dad – and we’re ready for our walk down to Pineapples. Can’t wait to see the sights!
4:37 p.m.
Whoa! We’re back from our walk and slick as pigs! Liz and AJ are both taking showers. I’m out here on the balcony patiently awaiting my turn to shower.
Our walk was fun…HOT but fun. Before I get to that however, I want to take a moment to describe our balcony.
We are super lucky to have the balcony we do. It’s wide, wraps around two sides of our condo’s perimeter, gives us great views not only of the beach but out over A1A and toward the Banana River, and is almost like an entire extra living space. In fact, it pretty much is, especially for me. I spend much of my spare time out here.
The beach-facing portion of the balcony has a sliding glass door on one side that leads into our living room, and one on the other side that leads into our master bedroom. The north-facing side that overlooks the beach access parking lot wraps around our master bedroom. On its north side, it has windows that are located right above our king-size bed. From this portion of the balcony, where our grill is located, we can see north toward Port Canaveral and west toward the Banana River.
We have a nice selection of cushioned lounge chairs sprinkled throughout the space. And we have a table with four chairs set just outside the sliding glass door that leads into the living room. It’s a good spot to sit during most storms since the majority (although not all) of them sweep in from the west, which means the grill side of the balcony takes the brunt of the wind-swept rain. We have hurricane shutters all the way around the balcony’s exterior, and I often leave that side’s shutters partially closed, not only to block the rain but to hide my illegal grilling activities from nosy onlookers. The last thing I want is the fire department showing up thinking that there’s a fire and then fining me for making dinner.
Okay, so now that that’s covered, back to our beach foray to Pineapples. It only takes us about 20 minutes or so to amble our way down to the site. The shoreline there is usually packed with beachgoers because it’s close to downtown Cocoa Beach and lots of public parking. Plus, with Pineapples and assorted other bars in the area, there is booze aplenty.
But it’s not the drinking that we walk there for (although that can be fun too), it’s the beach sights. While, due to the time of year, the beach wasn’t as jam-packed as it is around the 4th of July, it was still pretty darn busy, especially along the several hundred yards of beach that spans either side of Pineapples. The beach blankets were down, umbrellas were up, boom boxes were thumping, and the beefcakes and beach babes were abundant.
As usual, it was a total meat market. It was all greased up muscles, fake boobs, and thongs galore. But that’s to be expected, and that’s exactly why we walk there. We find the whole thing mildly comical. And what’s really hilarious, is that it’s usually the people who shouldn’t be wearing the least who are. Then there is all the flexing, the strutting, the football throwing, the Frisbee tossing, the soccer ball kicking, the tanning, the rubbing of lotion on bronze bodies, the flipping of long blonde hair, the crowding of people, the screaming of small children, the burying of parents in the sand, and all the rest that you’d expect in such an environment.
And then poof! As quickly as you entered that magical land of innocent beach debauchery, you’re out of it again – the crowd thins, the music fades, and suddenly you’re back on a beach sprinkled with just a handful of families and sunbathers.
That’s why Cocoa Beach is so great, and that’s why we bought our vacation home here.
And now that we’ve had our warm-up beers, it’s time for happy hour!
8:33 p.m.
Sadly, I’m starting to wonder if we should rename happy hour “depressing hour”. I did my best to ignore all the flu talk, although that seems to be increasingly difficult with each passing day. Every time someone brought it up, I changed the subject – and I’m going to change the subject again now.
So for dinner tonight, we went to Giuseppe’s Pizza Palace. I think I mentioned it in one of my prior entries when I was writing about local eateries we like to frequent when we’re here. It’s sort of a dive (actually, it IS a dive), but we love it. It specializes in takeout, which is why the interior upkeep is somewhat lacking. There are maybe six booths, four or five tables, and a small bar. And while the place might be tiny and kind of dingy (tears in the booth upholstery, dust of the fake plants, carved initials in the table tops, cracks in the linoleum floor tiles, chips in the wall paint – that sort of stuff) the food there is AMAZING! Plus, they have a foosball table, a bunch of old-school sports and movie posters adorning the walls (probably to cover the bigger chunks of missing plaster), and a sit-down video game console on which you can play various vintage arcade games for free. The video game console is where AJ usually plunks himself as soon as we’ve ordered our food. And there he remains until Liz and I finish our first glasses of beer we poured from the pitcher we always order, and I rouse him for the inevitable game of foosball.
We play until our food – a large bacon (yes, I said “bacon”) pizza arrives. Is it healthy? No. Will it probably lead me to heart failure by age 50? Yes. But I don’t care. It’s absolutely delicious and it’s something we only order at Giuseppe’s, so we allow ourselves the treat. And if we’re feeling particularly feisty, we sometimes even order a second pitcher of beer and another soda for AJ.
I know; we’re bad. But it’s sooooo gooood!
To make ourselves feel less guilty about our dining debauchery, we took another walk on the beach once we got back to the condo. It has cooled off nicely with the setting sun, which made an evening stroll more enjoyable.
We headed north this time, in the opposite direction of Pineapples. This is usually a more leisurely walk with fewer beachgoers involved. AJ ran ahead of us, searching for shells and zipping in and out of the incoming surf. This gave me and opportunity for some private talk with Liz. While she’s been pretty quiet about the whole Su flu thing, she finally let loose with some concerns regarding the spread of the flu and our return trip home. She wanted to know what I thought about going back earlier than planned. I told her that I didn’t know quite how I felt about it and really hadn’t considered it. She told me that she didn’t want to leave early but that it might be something to think about. I asked her why she felt this might be a good idea and she said she didn’t know, she just felt more secure being at home in a situation that might turn bad. I can understand where she’s coming from. While we love Cocoa Beach, Chicago is home.
We ended our debate when AJ rejoined us, not wanting him to worry or to start whining about the possibility of cutting our vacation short. We both agreed that we should start keeping a better eye on the flu news and play our own situation by ear moving forward. If things start to look too crazy, I guess we should call it quits and pack it in. I can’t imagine that they won’t get a better handle on this thing in a few days…a week tops. But I guess you never know.
I’ll be
t you anything all this hype dies down over the long Labor Day weekend. Come September, the Su flu will have gone the way of Ebola or Bird flu. It will be a distant memory, and we’ll all have moved on with our lives only to have some new and terrifying headline dangled over our head by the mainstream media. If I was going to put my money on something, it will either be some big company loosing its customers’ personal and/or financial data to a computer hack, or some new political scandal relating to the president or his staff. I guess that only time will tell.
I have to say, the topic of conversation certainly put somewhat of a damper on what otherwise would have been a beautiful and relaxing evening constitutional.
August 30th
9:51 a.m.
We’re slow to get moving this morning. It’s not surprising. We usually hit this point around the end of our first week here. Even though we’re on vacation, we push ourselves pretty hard having fun. And the beach can be exhausting…fun but exhausting, especially when you come from Chicago and you’re not used to quite so much physical activity throughout the rest of the year.
After the first week, the adrenaline from our arrival and from being here again starts to wear off a little. I mean, we’re still thrilled to be here, don’t get me wrong. But at this point it begins to feel more routine.
I took a few minutes to read over some of the previous entries in my little journal here before I began writing today, and I have to say that I’m pleased with my progress. I think I’m doing a decent job of getting the feel for this place down on paper if I DO say so myself. This will be a shorter entry, though, since I’m just waiting for Liz to finish up in the bathroom before we head over to Crabby Jack’s for a late breakfast.
The Dystopian Diaries Page 59