Inaugural

Finding someone to buy beer for us was only our first challenge as underage drinkers. There were also logistic issues about where to drink it and how to transport the alcoholic beverages discreetly.

It's not an issue once summer has started, because there's usually someone whose parents are away for one reason or another so we could drink inside. This early in the season, though, we were stuck drinking outside. Drinking in cars was not really an option. Too conspicuous and there were too many police with an appetite for catching teenagers in cars, especially on weekends.

No, we had our own place among the trees in a local park that we'd been hanging out in for many summers. It was close by but secluded enough that we could make a little campfire. We could also see who was coming and had a number of escape routes. I’d never had to use one, though. We were quiet partiers and didn’t leave a mess, so we didn't attract attention.

It wasn't dark yet when we got there. We were all set with a six pack each, some cheese doodles to munch on and a fresh pack of cigarettes. We carried the beer under our jackets and walked the back roads to get there, but we didn't bump into anyone along the way anyway. It would've been nice to have some more people there with us, but we hadn't seen any other friends yet.

I was ripping up the paper bag preparing to make a fire when Richy pulled a can from its holder, cracked the top and inhaled it all in one smooth motion. He dropped the emptied can by his side, let out a long belch, gave loud sigh of satisfaction and said, "so, what's the smartest thing to ever come out of a woman's mouth?"

I laughed in anticipation and said, "I don't know, what is the smartest thing to come out of a woman's mouth?"

"Einstein's dick!" Richy said, and without missing a beat he went right into another, and another, and another after that. I had a couple too, but mine were not as funny as his. For some reason, no matter how much I like a joke that I hear, I could never remember them. Richy had an ever-changing repertoire he would draw on whenever there was need for some levity. His jokes were always off-color to some degree, but somehow he always got away with it.

That's pretty much how our evening went as we made our way through the snacks and beer. I smoked a couple cigarettes too, though I am not a smoker, not a full-time smoker anyway. I like the buzz, especially when I am drinking, and I like the idea that I look cool –however stupid I know that notion is-- but the truth was I did not like the smell. I hated it on my hands and in my clothing. The whiff of a dirty ashtray is enough to make me gag.

When we finishedwe put the fire out, brought our trash out of the woods and put it in one of the park barrels. We were both feeling good with a six pack each of inspiration under our belts. We went for a wander on the streets in the dark.

Most of the houses were dark and empty and there was only an occasional car on the road. A couple of those were police cars. They were a constant presence, something we were tuned-into. In between traffic, we peed in the road, proudly leaving "circles of excellence," where we stood in one place and slowly spun as we squirted. We smoked some more cigarettes and walked and talked about what a great summer we were about to have, making grand plans of adventure and romance and believing every word. I had my new job on my mind. I had no idea what to expect, but I anticipated great things.

Then seemingly suddenly, the night was over. Richy had a curfew of 11 p.m. so that's when I went home also, although my curfew was midnight. My mother was asleep when I got home. I tried not to wake her as I went to bed.

Cheap Shoes

Richy went shopping with me in the car. I drove the seven miles or so into town on the highway. We didn't talk much on the way in, I had the radio blasting. My mother had a great factory installed sound system in her inordinately large station wagon with a big V-8 engine, roomy leather interior and fake wood paneling on the sides. It felt like a living room on wheels.

I had my mind on other things on the drive. I hate clothes shopping, so I was preoccupied planning a quick in and out. I hoped to find what I needed in the big cheap goods department store. Non-natural fibers were okay by me, expediency was what I was after. I parked out front and we went inside together.

The store was very busy, full of summer people stocking up for the season. There were so many with bright red skin shopping the sunburn remedy aisle while others were buying sand toys, towels, chairs, coolers, sunglasses, hats and umbrellas. Along with sun lotion, the beach essentials were in high demand. I went directly to the work clothes section, where I was thrilled by what I found.

Black pants, white short-sleeved collar shirts and black socks were all easy to find my sizes. For black shoes I found they bin full of these plastic mesh slip-on loafers with plastic bottoms that seemed comfortable although they provided no support and they were as cheap as could be. Success, I was done.

I looked around for Richy and he was talking to a sales girl who was laughing. I went to tell him I was headed to the checkout counter and he said, "hey Paul, I'd like to introduce you to Sally. I'm going to meet her at the beach tomorrow and she said she'd bring a friend along."

"Hello-o-o Sally," I said. "Any friend of Richy’s is a friend of mine. We share everything, don't we Richy?"

"Yes we do." Sally was all smiles. "So, then it's settled. I will give you a call tomorrow morning.”

As we walked away I told him I wouldn't be able to make it with him tomorrow because I was going uptown to get my bike and clothes and things. He wasn't fazed. He knew as well as I knew that he'd find someone to fill in the other date slot, and it wouldn't matter a twit to Sally. I knew it was my loss, but I knew there'd be plenty of other opportunities too.

Richy started asking questions about my new job as we walked to the car. I told him about my interview and the encounter with Officer Bavilaqua. He knew about the Shining Sea as we both had friends who had worked there summers past, but he was overly curious about the busboy job and the dining room. About the only thing I can tell them is that I did know anything yet. Richy has a great poker face, but I could tell he was envious of me. No great surprise there, he was always wishing he was older than he is. Weren't we all.

I for one wished I was old enough to buy beer legally. But that's not to say that we couldn't get it. Richy had several older brothers that helped us sometimes. Even more reliable were the guys that came sniffing around Richy's next door neighbor. Marianna Harmington was a college girl, strikingly beautiful, and Richy had been working his charm and talking dirty to her for years. He professed his lust for her frequently and without shame. She was very entertained and played it right back at him, though she didn't take it seriously. But her courtiers didn't know that, so when he asked her to ask them to buy beer for us, they were more than happy to oblige. And if all else failed, we had waited outside the liquor store to ask strangers if they would buy for us.

We hadn't started looking yet, but that was next on our agenda. After all, it was Friday night.

Engaging

I woke to the sound of someone downstairs in the kitchen. It took a few seconds to focus as I looked at my wristwatch -- almost 10 a.m.-- wow, I had slept solid. Sleeping inside makes a big difference. It was time to get up. No doubt it was my mother down stairs and she'd be looking for me any minute.

Once again the sun is shining brightly outside in the sky was clear and brilliant blue. At the same time I was a little regretful I had missed the early morning hours, but thankful for having had such a great sleep. I love sleep, but I hate wasting time so although I often indulged myself, it was not without some guilt, but not much. It was more a regret I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too.

I dressed and washed and trotted down stairs. "Good morning Mom," I said it entered the kitchen.

She was bent over in front of the refrigerator loading it with groceries. "Hi Paul! How are you honey? How did the exams go?”

“Great. No problem.”

“Thanks for cleaning up the yard. I appreciate not having to ask."

"You're welcome. I got a job as a busboy at The Shining Sea. I start Thursday. ”
“I'm glad to hear it, dear. Your father will be thrilled."

“I need to go shopping for some black pants, black shoes and white shirts. Can I use the car to go into town later? And I should go back home too, to get my clothes and such."

"I want to go to the garden center, but you can have the car after that. Are you driving home today?"

"I'll do my shopping today and drive home and back tomorrow morning, when there's no traffic."

“Ok. Would you help me empty the car right now? There are still a few more bags of groceries, and if you could bring my bags up to my room that would be a great help."

"Right now? I was going to have some breakfast."

"Yes, right now. I'll make you some eggs and bacon."

"Deal." I headed out the kitchen door to the driveway. Stepping from the shade in the kitchen, I walked into a blast of heat and light. I love the intensity of that early summer sun. Her car was a solar oven, it was like sticking my head through the door of a blast furnace, the heat rushing over my face.

As I shuttled between the car and the house, my buddy Richy Twotone rolled into the yard on his bicycle and shouted out, “pal mal! What’s happenin’?”

It was great to see him. We slapped five and I invited him to join me for breakfast. He went in to say hello to my mother.

Richy was a charmer, always had been. He always knew the right thing to say. This made him a hit with all the girls and parents too. I could tell that my mother liked him, despite her better judgment. She tended to value my friends that got good grades best and since Richy was a far from a stellar student, I knew she had her reservations. Nonetheless, he could make her laugh.

Richy wasn't dumb, he just fell behind in school from early on as his dyslexia went undiagnosed and his parents went clueless. His charm was compensation for his shortcomings, a distraction. He made up for his poor scholastic performance by performing socially, especially with females of all ages. He was almost two years younger than me, but socially and carnally he was years ahead. His confidence and nonchalance always made me envious; he was much older than his age. He was suave.

When I came into the kitchen my mother was at the stove and Richy was sitting at the table telling her some gossip about one of the local big landowners my mother never liked. “Yea, apparently he had passed out some time before he came to the rotary, so when the road started turning, his car went up the curb and onto the grass. That’s where a state cop found him sleeping at the wheel. Fortunately he didn't hit anything.”

“I had a suspicion he is a lush,” she said as she brought the plates of food and put them down before us. "Would you like juice or milk with that?"

"I'll have milk."

"I'll have juice, thank you."

I Need a Hero

It was about 10 o'clock at night and all evening I've tried to settle down, but found it impossible to relax. The energy ball in my gut was churning away, driving me crazy as I wished I had something to do, someplace to go, someone to visit. I tried reading and found myself rereading each sentence five times and still not knowing what I read. I tried watching television, but there was nothing on that engaged. I switched the television off and took a walk outside.

It was dark and starry out. We were far from city lights and without a cloud in the sky the stars stood out brightly against the inky black. It was quiet too, still too early for the crickets to take over. But then I heard a bird start singing not far off. It wasn’t loud, but seemed so in the otherwise silent dark. I don't know much about birds, but I knew this one, a Mockingbird. I recognized the song; I'd heard it many times before, though always during the day.

We used to have a cat and there was one summer she could hardly go outside without getting terrorized by a Mockingbird that had claimed the territory for his own. His favorite perch was on the TV antenna attached to our chimney. He'd sit up there for hours singing what seemed like an endless variety of song, until the cat ventured into the open. The bird would rear-up off the perch and dive with a shriek, turning at full speed to within inches of the cat’s head. The bird’s agility in the air was equally as remarkable as his vocal agility. From there he would swoop up from the dive bomb into a stall, then dive back down again. Again and again he did this as he chased the cat across the yard and into the trees. The cat was totally out-gunned!

That bird was already on my hero list, with its musical virtuosity and brazen sense of justice applied. And now here he was surprising me again with this night serenade.

A bird as a hero? Sure, why not? Rin Tin Tin and Lassie are two other heroes.

I like keeping a hero list, I'm always adding to it. My biggest human heroes are The Three Stooges. I can't really tell you exactly what it takes to make the list, but I know it when I see it. Anyone I've ever called a friend is on my hero list. My oldest hero is my cousin Conor. We were born within a month of each other and grew up together spending holidays and summer vacations together. No better time to have fun and get away with it than when the parents are partying.

My favorite co-invention of ours was the cans across the road trick. I think what gave us the idea was our aunts wedding where the two of us were given the task of tying cans behind her car. So then one bored summer night we got a spool of thick black thread that strung across the road with a couple of cans tied to each end. It was a kick when a car came and bang, the cans would clang out loud enough so the driver slammed on his brakes. And we'd be in hysterics running through the yards to our backdoor. We had a perfect getaway.

Some people would get really mad when they hit the cans. One time we just barely made it from the back stair to the living room when some guys came to the front door asking if we'd seen or heard anything. We were cool as could be, and just said, "no, sorry, we've just been watching TV.” That was as close as we came to getting caught. Quite exciting.

Those things can be such great fun when I do them along with an enthusiastic co-conspirator, but unfortunately they have no appeal when I'm alone. Unlike the Mockingbird, I can't be happy showing off for myself.

I'm looking forward to the weekend, and people.

A Feathered Nest

Best distraction that I know when I'm short on satisfaction is a good workout. I didn't have my 10 speed bike, but I could do some yard work, go for some more points with my mother so she'll consider letting me use her car over the weekend. Besides, I like getting dirty and accomplishing something. There's satisfaction in completion of anything if it takes an effort.

And then again, there is definitely such thing as too much effort. I liked to think that I was somewhere in the middle. I was an above-C student in high school, but no athlete. My body grew faster than it could catch up to, I was all arms and legs everywhere. During gym one time we were playing volleyball and I completely missed what should have been an easy return prompting a junior on my team to laugh out loud and say, "my God, I bet you can’t even you walk and chew gum at the same time!" But I could bike.

Must have been the mechanical assist from the wheels and gears that did it for me, gave me the extra strength and control I needed. It was their gyroscopic affect that helped to smooth out the fast turns that attracted me, the G-forces and the wind in my face, it was a thrill. I was so taken by it that I came up with the stupid idea of stealing my friend’s bike off his front porch. I distracted his mother by ringing the doorbell and asking her if my friend could come out, then when she went to get them I grabbed the bike and ran away with it. I had it well hidden in my backyard behind a rock, but I didn't tell her that until after we drove around for awhile in her car looking for it, and I realized that she wasn't going to give up.

I still had a bicycle Jones these days when I couldn't ride. It's not like I was a great rider, I wasn't fast exactly, but I could do distances decently. I could do fifteen or twenty miles in an afternoon after school visiting friends like Richy Twotone who lived in a town two towns away. I went to a private school since 7th grade so all my school buddies lived in other towns for years before I could drive. My mother didn’t drive a taxi, that's for sure! She had her own life. That was fine with me. I got around pretty well without. In addition to biking I also hitch-hiked quite a bit.

Overall my experience with getting rides by sticking out my thumb from the side of the road was great: It was easy, convenient, economical and reliable. The idea sounds absurd but it worked despite bad press. It was a really cool way of meeting people actually. It was like dropping into the middle of some stranger’s life for his short meeting while he drove from point A to point B. I had a few less than safe situations occur where I wasn't sure I trusted the driver let alone him trusting me, but overall I got where I wanted to with little hassle. I wouldn't be at the summer cottage right then if I hadn't hitchhiked.

Now that I had a license to drive, that was of course the preference these days. I loved to drive. It was just that same old mechanical assist and the physics involved and I loved. I liked to go fast. Loved it. Me and other friends would use her mother's cars to drive on dirt roads. Big V-8's with rear-wheel drive made it very easy to power slide around corners in the dirt. It was excellent training for adverse driving conditions and downright fun.

My mind was adrift as I mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, mulched the garden, washed down the porch and put out all the porch furniture. Place looked great, I'd get the car that weekend for sure.

Reputation Exceeds

Wow. Suddenly, I was employed. It felt strangely significant, momentous even. I was reminded of how I felt after passing my driving test earlier that year and that surprised me. I hadn't expected to feel anything. I can't say I felt grown-up, exactly. Actually, I felt like a fraud pretending to be mature and responsible. I felt like I was getting away with something. I’m not sure whether it was guilty pleasure or pleasureful guilt. It was some of both, I think.

This was great. Now I could make my parents happy and I had another four or five days of freedom before I started work. When I realized that is when I started getting this feeling like a little ball of churning energy in my gut. I needed to find a friend or two. It was time to party!

Last time I talked to my best party buddy and frequent partner in crime Richy Twotone was a few weeks earlier, and he said he’d be down today. “Hope so,” I thought. As despite how very much I loved the place, I hated to be there when I was balone. I went by Richy’s house on my way home, but he wasn't there yet. “Its still early,” I told myself, though it didn’t quiet the dervish I felt inside me anxious for action, diversion, entertainment. I headed home, but rather than taking the turn onto my road I kept going straight on the county road to where it ended. That’s where the town pier began. I rode out to the end.

My first instinct as I got near the water is to assess the wind, the strength and direction. The classic Southwest thermal was just starting to kick in, the bright sun warming the land, causing the air to rise pulled in the cool air off the water. This phenomenon was why Figawi was such a great sailing location. It was a wind factory during the summer months.

I was happy to see lots of activity on the water. There were a couple boats tied to the end of the pier and another going in on the boat ramp. In the harbor, empty moorings still outnumbered the ones with boats attached. Seems like overnight that the harbor fills, but its a process. There’s a steady stream of boats going in the weeks leading up to July

Figawi had a great harbor, big and deep, with a long and substantial rock jetty that provided protection from the waves generated by the prevailing winds. From where I stood on the pier I could see the outer harbor out past the jetty, the main entrance at the tower at the jetty’s end, and all of the inner harbor down to The Point. The opposite shore was actually an island that had a dramatic dirt bluff with a tuft of trees on top. There had been some infamous camp out sleepover bonfire burning blowouts over there through the years, that's for sure. Legend always passes down a better version than what really happened and the next generation believes it literally and feels compelled to outdo it. At least that's how I always felt.

The water in the harbor was particularly beautiful this time of year. It's so clear before summer starts, an aqua marine color from the white sand on the bottom filtered through the water. I love the color, soothing and inviting, it always made me think of the tropics, warmth and comfort. Time for another swim!

I mounted my bike’s pedals and started riding off the pier. Right at the end I saw that a friend’s mother was driving the car headed towards me down the road, about to turn around in the beach parking lot. I smiled and waved. She didn’t smile at all, but she did wave. “Hey, I’ll take that,” I thought. Her and me had a history..

There was this BB gun incident, where a car window got shot out. I happen to be the only one that had a BB gun at the time and location, but I had ditched soon enough and then lied through my teeth about being there, that I actually got away with it, or sort of. I hadn't done it on purpose, I was actually aiming for the hubcap, but to prevent the BB from rolling out of my single shot BB gun, I ended up aiming high and hit the window. I did mean to, honest.

Anyway she knew me for a liar after that incident, so then one time later when her son got hit by a rock, I got blamed. I won't give away the guilty party, but it wasn't me.

Officer Bavilaqua

I had a delightful bicycle ride to the Shining Sea Resort just a couple of miles away. As I approached, I fully expected to breeze through the entrance with a wave to the guard, like I belonged there. Instead, the guard spazzed when he saw me, practically throwing magazine he was reading, as he jumped up from where he sat. He put his hand up and stepped into the middle of the drive in front of me and said, “yes, can I help you?” much louder than necessary.

I slowed to a stop and said, “Good-morning, sir!” with my best smile, “how are you today?“ I meant it as a rhetorical question, of course, but I acted as though I was waiting for an answer.

After a few empty moments while I held my smile, he finally responded with a grunt that verged on a snarl as he started to speak again, but I cut him off and said, “I have an appointment at 10 with Mr. Glassit, the general manager.”

“Ok, you can pass,” he said almost reluctantly, “put your bike by the employees office over there” and he pointed to the end of the parking lot far from the front office. He never cracked a smile the whole time and as I rode past he kept watching me with this look like, “ok, buddy, I got your number now.”

I parked my bike outside one of their little guest cottages functioning as an office and then walked across the parking lot to the main entrance. It was a big parking lot flanked on one side by the tennis courts and guest cottages, then there was the motel section, the pool building and I finally the main hotel building. It was a big place, almost two-hundred rooms in all. Aside from the cottages all the buildings were boxes. One thing for sure, Shining Sea was not known for its historic architecture. No, its attraction during the summer was its beach.

Shining Sea had a half-mile of beautiful sandy white beach that faced directly west and made for spectacular sunsets. The prevailing wind in the area was on shore from the southwest and a very reliable even on the hottest days in August.

Once through the entrance I was in the main lobby, a big affair with a large fountain in the middle. I went in past the fountain and up to the front desk where I asked, “Is Mr. Glassit available? I have an appointment with him at 10.” They directed me around the corner to where Mr. Glassit's office was.

As I approached I could see his door was open and he was sitting at his desk. I knocked on the doorjam lightly and as he looked up, I said "excuse me, are you Mr. Glassit? My name is Paul Mallet.”

“Hello, Paul.” Mr. Glassit responded with a smile as he stood up and said, "Come right in, have a seat. So, you’re here about the busboy position, right?"

“Yes, that's right."

"And do you live in the area? Do have a place to stay?”

“Yes, I live in Fagawi ,at my parents place.”

“Great. And can you work all summer right up through Labor Day weekend?"

"Yes I can."

"Then welcome aboard! Please come to our orientation on Tuesday at noon and you can start work on Wednesday at 7am. You will need black pants, black shoes and socks, a white short-sleeved collar shirt and a black bow tie. We'll supply the tie. Report to the dining room when you come, and ask for the maitre’d. His name is Dominic Oregeno.

Yes, its Summer

My skin felt incredibly clean, almost new. My towel was warm from the sun and felt great going across my back as I dried-off. The air was warm and dry and perfect for going shirtless. I felt too comfortable to be legal. I went inside to see what was available in the kitchen, though I already knew.

Nope, nothing new had appeared in either the cupboard of the refrigerator since I'd looked last night. I was hungry so I decided to go to the local grocery for provisions. I still had plenty of time before my appointment. I threw on a T-shirt, some dry shorts, socks and sneakers and went to the garage to get a bicycle. I didn't have my 10-speed bike here yet –my ride of choice-- but I had a great three speed cruiser.

Pedal power. With simple mechanics to drive wheels using leg muscle for propulsion it's possible to move much faster than a walk or run. To me, it always felt so slow to walk when I had an option to ride. And because on a bike I could use gravity going downhill, I could really fly. That's what I liked best about bicycles, was going fast, though not this morning. I wasn't interested in sweating, so I took a leisurely pace.

The place was wild with blossom. Roses hung out into the road from over-flowing gardens that seemed to grow before my eyes. Vivid colors shouted out from the thriving green that was everywhere. And as always during the summer months, the air was alive with birds and bird noises. They were exceptionally busy now, as they were still in nesting mode, setting-up house in the trees and eaves. The porches on the summer homes were perennial favorites. The place was rife with life, but still seemed empty and deserted without people. They’d be here soon enough though, I thought. It was Thursday, and come Friday they’d be here.

I wasn’t entirely sure that the little grocery would be open, as it was a seasonal business, but fortunately it was. I leaned my bike against the outside wall and went up the worn and weathered steps to the entrance. It was a funky place located in an old house that had been added-on to in an almost haphazard way over the years. The checkout was in the narrow front-hallway off of which were a number of rooms, some of which were on different levels. The floors were wood, badly rutted, and they creaked loudly underfoot. The aisles were narrow and oriented in different directions to best fit the room they were in. Nonetheless, the selection rivaled any big grocery --the produce especially-- and the fish and meat counter, where the owner spent his time, was top notch. That’s where I headed first.

Tony was short and bald and usually wore one of those cheery-looking flat-top straw hats with a red and white bad around it. His demeanor was always equally cheery and he bellowed out “Good morning! How ya doin today!?” when he saw me approach, “What can I get you?”

I asked for an half dozen hot-dogs and a quart of potato salad.