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August 30, 2004
A COUPLE OF VACATION STORIES
My vacation this year was sort of split in two. I spent the first five days chilling and relaxing along the Delaware shore at my parents' place, eating seafood, kicking back in their hot tub, and most of all chilling on the boardwalk while taking notes in a spiral notebook and thinking of story ideas for a short story contest I'm thinking of entering.
But Thursday afternoon, I flew out of Baltimore and headed off to spend a few days with some friends on a different beach. The first half of the week was for relaxing. The second half was for blowing off steam. So off to North Carolina I went, ready to howl at the moon a little and get some more beach time in. Among the highlights of the weekend:
-- Friday evening started with a fabulous seafood dinner at The Isles (I had seared scallops in tarragon cream)... for the record, I could spend my entire life just hanging out at the tiki bar out back overlooking the ocean, for those of you who have QuickTime and can see the virtual tour. After dinner, we went to the Giggling Mackerel for some drinks... they had karaoke... my friends forced me (okay, not like I dragged my heels that much) to give it a shot... and this Yankee played country singer for a while. And you know what? I did well... this New York boy was told, "Man, you're a southern boy tonight."
I got to sing "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere" in a southern bar on the water - the song's true setting. I did "Amarillo By Morning," and afterward a good old boy came up to me and said, "I cain't buhlieve a Yainkee just did George Strait better than George Strait does George Strait." Some 50something woman came up and told me I had one of the most beautiful voices she'd ever heard, and asked me to sing the song that was played at her wedding. And there were a whole bunch of couples who got up to dance when I did "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." (Pictures are forthcoming, pending getting them developed.) Anyway, count me as one Yankee who went into a bar full of self-admitted southern country rednecks, and had the nerve to sing country to 'em... and this lifelong northern boy won 'em all over.
-- Saturday... a lot of great beach time, plus the cultural experience of going to a strip club accompanied by two attractive women - at their behest. (Mom, stop reading this part.) While I figured that it might be somewhat awkward to be there with friends who weren't guys, I have to admit... I am a man, we have egos, and I flat out decided that the looks I would get from the other guys in the club when I came in accompanied by one brunette and one blonde would be worth any embarrassment I might otherwise feel. So when they proposed it, I only objected for about .000004 of a second before agreeing to go... so down the coast we drove to the clubs of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
-- Sunday morning, Gaston was a big bust where we were so far... after breakfast, it was cloudy but there was no rain and very little wind, so we decided to head down toward the beach one last time. We stopped in this little surf shop - my friends wanted henna tattoos - and then all of a sudden the sun went in, the sky went dark, and within what seemed like 5 minutes, Gaston made his presence felt. I finally got my tropical storm wish -- I stood in the doorway of this little surf shop and watched sheets of rain falling sideways as 50 mph winds came whistling off the ocean about 250 yards away.
It never felt threatening - in fact, no one seemed fazed at all. The owner guy - a very short little Israeli immigrant who said he'd lived much of his life in Greece - kept applying henna to my friends' ankles while he tried way too hard to flirt with them, even as the storm raged outside and I stood in the doorway watching it all. And then, just like that, the sun was back out and it was all over - it had only been one of the storm's outer bands that had come ashore.
Back to the little owner guy... he was keenly interested in my friends, and kept trying to get a sense of which one I might be dating, to see which one he should go for. They played along splendidly, playfully flirting with him and having fun with him. But we were all still high on our strip club experience from not 12 hours before, and my friends managed to mention that we'd all gone to a strip club together, oh, about 100 times in 10 minutes. This got the little guy's attention, it's safe to say. Sensing some sort of perverse opportunity, he managed to work into the conversation that he'd experienced a menage a trois before - and while it was awkward at first, "after hour or five hours" he'd gotten the hang of it. Amused at his forwardness, my friends just tittered and giggled at this... which he interpreted as interest, I would later find out.
I was talked into getting a henna tattoo by my friends... but because I have a big arm (not fat, big boned, dammit... beefcake!), he needed more dye for me, so my tattoo dried more slowly than the ladies' ones did. They decided to walk down to the beach to see the ocean (the sun was back out now), leaving me with Mr. Five Hour Threesome. The following is a word-for-word reproduction of the conversation that occurred as soon as my friends were out of earshot.
Little Surf Shop Owner Guy (LSSOG): "So... you have done both?"
Mudge (surprised, but trying to diffuse the subject with awkward humor): "Uh, not at the same time, man - you're a better man than me." (Mudge looks outside to see if he can get his friends to come back.)
LSSOG (clearly not wanting to let this go): "But separately, then? (pause) Which one is better?"
Mudge (not wanting to say anything about his friends, but morbidly curious as to where this is going to go, so he deliberately gives a vague answer): "They're both wonderful women."
LSSOG (hopeful look on his face): "So... you are looking for partner?"
Awkward pause.
Mudge: "Uh, no thanks... I'm with those two. But -- "
LSSOG: "No, I mean for all (gesturing toward the beach and my rapidly disappearing friends). Like, you all need partner? The two of them, and..." (trails off, but points to Mudge)
Mudge: "Oh." (Awkward pause while checking my shoulder.) "No. I mean, thanks, but no, we're not -- we don't -- I mean..."
LSSOG (smiling): "You never know. We see everything here. And you went to strip club together, so I thought..."
Mudge (motioning toward his dyed arm): "When did you say this thing'll be dry?"
Yes, ladies and gentlemen... I was hit on for group sex by a 5'5" surf shop owner from Israel, Greece, or some combination thereof - while a tropical storm was blowing in off the Atlantic and with thick globs of black henna drying on my arm. That hadn't quite been in my vacation planner, but here it was, live and in color.
There were a bunch more stories from the weekend, but those were the ones that struck me as share-worthy. I'll say this much: I really do pick one of a kind vacations!
