There is quite the night scene here; or so I’ve heard. I know I should go and see for myself, but just don’t see the point of changing out of my lounge clothes and doing something with my hair at 9:00 pm when I would rather be writing or reading or watching TV. Maybe if I had a friend to check out the action with me it would be different. I don’t need the buddy system during the day, but do at night. Nevertheless last Saturday I promised myself I would do it. Probably my first error in getting out for the evening was leaving at 6:30 pm; heck, that’s night to me. I walked the few blocks to the beach. It was not a pretty sight. The afternoon stragglers, who looked to have been there for hours, were sitting and standing amongst piles of debris strewn all over the sand. Most seemed to be a bit tipsy and looked a little intimidating; not an area you would want to walk through. I stayed up on the walkway and decided not to stroll down the beach.
I walked a short way in the other direction and saw that it was high tide and that the waves were much more forceful than usual. A line of fishermen were working their rods and reels while the pelicans and other birds were swooping low over the area searching for food. The flying creatures were so low I could see their eyeballs. I sat down in the sand and stared up at the mesmerizing display until I realized I was getting a stiff neck.
Finding a bench to sit on I continued my wildlife viewing, thinking I would sit there until the sun set. To my left, and where the sand meets the promenade, sat the scruffy group of guys who are always there. I think they are beach fishermen of some sort and I think they might even live there. In the morning they seem to be setting up a few logs and rocks, surrounded by worn bags with supplies. In the afternoon, one guy is always shucking oysters and people are eating plates of them. Maybe it’s a fast-food restaurant. At this time of the evening they were drinking beer and still chomping oysters.
Between checking out the dudes, and watching the water, I noticed someone way out who looked to be snorkeling. I was a bit concerned; twilight was on its way, the currents were looking mighty strong, and he was a long ways out. Since no one else seemed to be concerned, I ignored the situation. It was at least thirty minutes after first spotting him that I saw him arriving at the shore. He must have been mid-40’s and wore a knee length wetsuit that had seen better days and smaller bodies. Ragged goggles draped from his neck and a lobster was attached to a home made spear. All his buddies were whooping and congratulating him on his conquest. All I could think about was how incredibly fit he was, even with the gut. He popped open a brew as soon as he was out of his wetsuit.
I really did want to take pictures and I always want to go over and talk to these guys and get their story, but it seems way too invasive. I’ve been know to talk to fishermen on the beach so it’s not an angler phobia or anything. I think it is more that they are in what appears to be a very exclusive club and I feel as if I would be crossing a line where I wasn’t invited. Maybe one morning I’ll get up the nerve to talk to them.
Having been sitting on a concrete bench for far to long, I got up and continued my walk. It was close to 8pm and no sign of a sun setting anytime soon. Forget walking by the nightclub scene; I was going home.
Maybe I will find the fortitude to once again try to get in on the night action here, but somehow I rather doubt it.
Kate
