We have this awful tendency to
isolate on holidays. This year I told G,
not suggested shame on me, that he could choose what to do about
fireworks. After a bit of poking, he
picked the Ocean Beach fireworks.
Gathering our militancy, first
thing in the morning we drove the car down to downtown OB and found a parking
spot one block from the beach. It was a
2 hour parking zone, but we cheat using my handicapped parking permit. Much to our dismay, G discovered that there
was no public transportation going to OB this holiday. (That’s a poor decision by the MTB.) So we took a cab back down around six.
Yes, I laughed at us.
We walked the block to the sand
and were armed and forewarned against almost everything. We got the beach and bay chairs from the
car. We had coats, wore levis, tennies
and socks, and I had a sweater and an old flannel blanket too. After we settled in, there was a wonderful
beach entertainer waving two sticks and a hoop to create long, marvelously big
bubbles the size of our car. The kids
next to us sounded German, and the family on the other side were Hispanic. Children ran everywhere leaping at the
bubbles, leaping in the surf too. Babies
and children shrieked. There wasn’t a
peaceful inch anywhere. It was
delightful.
Just after the sunset, long lines
of surfers began filing onto the beach.
I had expected this. Surfers
usually paddle out to the end of the pier to enjoy the fireworks directly
overhead. Then more followed. Pretty soon hundreds and hundreds of surfers
using all sorts of flotation devices filed down to the waterline. I laughed at the man with the big dog and the tiny kayak. I had no idea how a bunch of
young ladies would get their very large, blow-up, swimming pool out past the
surf line. There was even one inner tube
that looked like a flamingo. I asked
what had triggered this great paddle out.
Something on the internet one of the young men told me.
We enjoyed the fireworks. They
weren’t spectacular, but they were ours.
We waited a little for the first masses of humanity to leave. The street was closed, so we could walk right
down the middle to the car. There were a
few marshmallows being thrown here and there.
It was nothing like the mass marshmallow battles that used to be held in
years past….that mess took a week to clean up.
The masses drove north out to the freeway creating a massive, many mile, gridlock. We drove around the block and headed
south. Zig zagging further south, at
last we were able to reach the top of the point and turn north around the
traffic. We followed two other cars…all
of which turned into our complex. Like
minds.
Best of all, dear G let me get eight hours of sleep.
Blurry cell phone image of
the surfers near the pier end.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
You were wise to park early in the day! Clever!
ReplyDeleteSneaky. LOL
DeleteI stayed home from the fireworks for the first time in years, pooped out with the heat. My company and my sons went and enjoyed the night. I could see the ones in the neighborhood and fell asleep early. All was good. Fireworks over the water! I'd stir myself for those.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like a grand adventure all around!
ReplyDeleteFireworks AND eight hours sleep? Holy Mackeral.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a fun people watching and firework enjoying day.
ReplyDeleteI have a husband who hates social contact on holiday
ReplyDeleteMine hates social contact period. He does it with a smile that get's less forced every year.
DeleteGood for you! Art never wants to go see fireworks because of the traffic. We watch it from the window instead.
ReplyDelete