This is a True Story. ..Continued.
Part II of III (2 of 3)
So I hear this thunderous “clip, clop, clap” and a “whoosh” and I’m waking up face first in the sand and a man is running right at me and leaping OVER me. WTF! Seriously, what just happened? Why did he do that? Did he not see me? Was it a jailbreak? Was he being pursued by an ex-wife or possibly training for the Warrior Dash? Anyway, it startled me awake and after spitting tiny rocks and what appeared to be hermit crab afterbirth out of my mouth, I looked around and was thinking, “Where the HOLY HELL am I?” I collected myself and quickly assessed that I was on a beach. Genius. But there were no signs of life, other than the escapee jogger and something that looked eerily like a UFO on the cliff behind me.
As I roused Coolio-G it started to come back to me. We had traveled several miles, on foot, up the beach, around pointy pieces of land, in the twilight and once we were a safe distance from the local authorities, we passed out. It sounded totally plausible in my head…but two things remained unclear…where was the beer and why was there a flying saucer hovering above me?
It’s an understatement to say that things weren’t going as planned. But we were young and brave and stupid and just knew that better days laid ahead for us. And then Coolio-G realized we weren’t crazy for being optimistic. He remembered why our lives were about to become super awesome again! Why? We were at “Black’s Beach” is why, the world renowned gathering spot for clothing optional, buck naked sun worshippers and a few hippies. That’s right…fantastic and freaky, let it fly, fabric-free frolicking for all! We had front row seats to a daily carnivale of bare boobs, butts and bush. How sweeeeeet is that? Free porn for FOUR DAYS! Four days later, we packed up our stuff and walked back down the beach to La Jolla. Black’s wasn’t a nude beach, it wasn’t even popular. There were no breasts, no bums, no beavers and no aliens. A total rip-off! Honestly, after Day 3, I was praying that a prison fugitive would leap over me again. But I got NOTHING! And you know what; I don’t think we were at Black’s Beach.
Upon returning to Oasis-Oasis, I was determined to jump into the public fountain/shower but the beach park was filled with a bunch of mouth breathing non extraterrestrial nose blowers. And it totally registered in my head that what I wanted to do would draw considerable attention and not the good kind. But it was so tempting. I mean really, I figured so long as I could resist my stomach’s constant cry to “eat the koi, “eat the koi”, I would be in and out in a few seconds. I was really hungry, so I didn’t risk it.
So we got in the car and got the hell out of there. Wait a second…where did the fucking car go? Oh, sorry…correction, we hitched a ride and picked up Coolio-G’s car at the shop. Needless to say, we were stoked! Who the shit did we think we were, not needing a car? Cars are what give you real freedom, not anal probes, congress, city buses or…feet. So as we sat in the newly repaired, totally badass Coolio-G mobile, it was immediately apparent what we had to do next. Take a bath. I kid; we were so ripe I think we had come full circle to freshly scented again. But you could almost smell what we were thinking and Coolio-G had this look on his face that I had seen before. As I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw myself (or the homeless, street dweller version of myself) staring back at me, I had the same look on my face too.
Forget the past, live for the future; we were born to be wild! We still had five fucking days left in California and it was time to party like a runaway jackhammer…in TIJUANA! (it’s in Mexico).
What could possibly go wrong?
To be continued…(Part III)