The Girls Get Outta Dodge

For the week-end. I took Ginger to the Paradise Pet Resort at 7:00 Friday morning and was able to get off a little early from work. My friend, Lou, met me at my house and we took my truck to Hollywood Beach for a little “R & R”. We both had a burning desire for one last “beach week-end” before cool weather set in. We were going to attend the Christmas parade on Saturday night that was going to be held on the boardwalk on Hollywood Beach. We had great fun laughing and talking during the 2 -1/2 hour trip and getting to know one another better. We talked about everything and anything. Especially men and sex, sex and men, and the ups and downs of being a woman. The trip went so fast, we were at the motel in no time. Our room had a full kitchen with a microwave and two beds. No view until you went out on the balcony and we could hear the ocean. Since we had tuckered each out with so much talking and laughing, we had a couple of glasses of wine and hit the sack early.

The next morning, we strolled down the boardwalk and had an iced coffee at an outside table at the Ocean Alley Grill and the sea air made us hungry, so we ordered a big breakfast.

This is about when we find out that the Christmas parade isn’t this week-end, it’s the next week-end. After breakfast, we went back to the motel and made reservations for the following Saturday night. Then we went to the truck and got our chairs and beach bags, set them up on the beach and proceeded to go for a brisk three mile walk. (Of course, talking and laughing all the way) There are lifeguard stations about every hundred yards or so. There were lots and lots of baby Portugese Man o’Wars washed up on the beach and I was curious as to what remedy the lifeguards used, so we went up to one station to ask. There was this huge black guy inside and I asked him what they used for jellyfish stings. His answer was “binegot”. “Binegot”, I asked? “No”, he said – “Binegot”. So, I asked Lou what he was saying. “Binegot” she says. “What the Hell is Binegot, anyway” I said. He points to a spray bottle and says “Binegot”. I was so frustrated, I asked him if he was speaking English. “Yes”, he said. So I said “I don’t know what the Hell you’re saying – can you spell it?” I ask. So he spells it. “B.I.N.E.G.A.R.” Finally, it hits us about the same time. He’s from the islands and prounounces a “V” like a “B”. It was vinegar!!!!!!!! So, here we are, laughing hysterically down the beach. Pretty soon, my ankle starts stinging and I realize that I must have brushed up against a Man o’War tentacle. I scrub it with sand but it still stings, so we go up to the next lifeguard stand and ask for a squirt of vinegar, which instantly relieves the sting. (We dared not ask for “Binegot”) Then we realize, here we are – two old ladies going up to every lifeguard station to talk to the lifeguards. That got us to laughing again. Back to our chairs and we sit and enjoy the cloudless day and the sun beating down on us. We had bought a paper at breakfast and I ran across a unisex hair salon that was only a couple of blocks away. I decided that I wanted to get my hair cut, so I called and made an appointment. I walked down the street and found it right away, but it was a barber shop. What the Hell, I thought – I’ve got short hair. I actually got a really good haircut for $20, including the tip. Back to the beach. Now, it’s 4:30. Rapidly approaching cocktail hour. I suggested that we dress and hit the bar. Now “dressing” involved slipping on a miniskirt and flip-flops. Off to the bar we went. I had a martini and Lou had a beer. Great martini – they served it “up” like I like it, but put a teeny pitcher in a cup of ice and poured a little in the glass and set the pitcher in the ice so the martini would stay cold. Great idea. We people watched and talked to some people in the bar and pretty soon it was time to dress for dinner. Lou wore a black dress with a sheer scarf over it and I wore black leggings and an aqua tunic. We both wore heels. She was about 5’9” in heels and I was 6’2”. By the time we left the motel, it was 7:30. I had wanted to stay on the beach for dinner, but Lou wanted to go downtown. She was willing to drive, so I said OK. We dropped the truck at a valet parking area and set out to find a place to have dinner. We both love ethnic food and we had seen a Mediterranean tapas style restaurant and decided to eat there. There were no tables because there was a show that night but the hostess seated us at the bar. We, ordered an escargot dish and a salad platter and the “house special” sangria. Sweet but yummy. Dinner was great and we saw two performances of the show, which was Spanish singing and dancing. One of the waiters was constantly winking at both of us, so we flirted outrageously back. There were two really good looking tall (but 20 years younger) guys at the end of the bar that Lou had her eyes on. (She likes ‘em at least 10 years younger but has a “thing” for Latin men) When I got up to go to the bathroom, I realized that one of the guys was just coming out of the bathroom. “You’re a tall drink of water” he said. I couldn’t think of a single comeback. All I could think of was “And?”, which is what I said. I think it threw him off guard, which wasn’t a bad thing. Lou was looking for a dance partner all evening and I wanted to help her find one but I don’t think that was the way to go about it.

After dinner, Lou wanted to dance, so we went to this bar called “Silver”. We walked in and stood in front of the hostess stand. “That’s ten dollars apiece” she says. Lou and I look at each other, turn around and walk out without another word. We get to the sidewalk and a waitress grabs us and says “you don’t have to pay, come in as my guest”, so in we went via another door. We sit down at a table and a waiter comes over and says “you can’t sit here”. We ask why and he explains that the table is reserved for people who order off the “bottle menu”. So, we look at the bottle menu and see that you order a bottle of liquor for $125 or more and you get free setups and get to sit at this table. So he says “You’ll have to move”. I, of course, get my panties in a wad and ask just where it is that we are supposed to sit. He gestures over to the other side of the bar and says “somewhere over there”. I then informed him that he should escort us to a table where we are allowed to sit. So, he does. However, we elect to sit at the bar. Pretty soon, two pretty young things in skimpy clothes are helped up on the bar and start to dance in a very provocative manner. After an hour, no one has asked Lou to dance, so we leave. It’s now around midnight. She says “c’mon – I know a place you’ll love”. So we proceed to a French bakery called “Chocolata”. She makes me eat a piece of wonderful pastry. I don’t know what it was other than it melted in my mouth and made me hungry for more. Pretty soon, a guy sets up some speakers, picks up a guitar, and starts singing outside the bakery. He’s really, really good, so we sit there for a few minutes when a waitress comes over and says “you can’t sit here”. I’m like “what the f_ _k???” but didn’t say it. She says “you have to order something to sit here”. OK fine. I order a fruit plate. “That’s not enough” she says. “What do you mean that’s not enough?” I say. She says “you both have to order something”. “Fine” I said “bring us each a fruit plate, then”. Lou and I each had a bottle of water with us and I expected her to tell us that we couldn’t drink them there. As a matter of fact, I almost dared her to say it. She didn’t. We sat for about an hour and listened to this guy, Reuben, play the guitar and sing. He was really good and we enjoyed it immensely. We got back to the motel around 1:30. I fell into bed and Lou talked to a girlfriend on the phone until 3 in the morning. (I found out later) We woke up around 9 on Sunday morning and proceeded to go back to the Ocean Alley Grill for breakfast. We were both starving and my legs hurt from spending the whole night in high heels. Coincidentally, we sat in the same chairs at the bar where we sat the night before for cocktails. Several people, apparently regulars, stopped by and remarked “are you girls still here?”. It was a fun atmosphere and where we sat was perfect for people watching, which is what we both like to do. We struck up several conversations and felt like one of the regulars. After breakfast, we packed up the car and headed to the beach. I still hadn’t finished my Clive Cussler book, so Lou went walking by herself. She’s such a “man magnet” that I totally expected her to come walking back with some guy, but she didn’t. I was reading my book and enjoying sitting on the beach when I heard Lou say “oh my” under her breath. All of a sudden, the shadow of a man comes over me and this guy is saying “hello” to Lou. I thought she knew him at first. He introduces himself to both of us and asks if he could sit down. Now, I thought he was black because I could only see his silouette, but when he started talking, I realized he was Latin American, which is the kind of guy that Lou goes “gaga” for. She is convinced that she has some Latin blood in her somewhere. She loves the culture, the people, the dances. And the men. As I’m looking (ok, not “looking” – LUSTING) at this man’s silhouette, I realize that he’s built and buff. He’s also very dark from being in the sun. He proceeds to tell us both how beautiful we are and how he loves American women – especially women over 45. He goes on to tell us that he is from Costa Rica, works out every day, eats healthy and doesn’t smoke, do drugs or drink much of anything except wine. This gorgeous hunk of masculinity was selling himself to us. And we’re drinking it in. He was not only gorgeous to look at, he was personable, affable and likeable. I was stunned that he would pick us out to talk to. So, he sits down in the sand at our feet. He asks if we are friends or sisters and we both responded “sisters”. Neither one of us knows why, buy we did. Now, I knew that Lou loved Latin men. I have a hard time conversing with someone who speaks broken English, so I buried my nose in my book. Pretty soon, he’s rubbing both our legs and trying to keep me engaged in conversation. I whipped out my lip gloss and handed it to Lou as if to say “he’s all yours, girlfriend”. How two women can communicate with something as simple as that is beyond my comprehension, but it happened. As it turns out, his first name is Louis and Lou’s is Louisa. Ahhhh – things in common!! The name he goes by is Fernando. (All I can think about is Fernando the bull) Lou brings out her (non-digital) camera and asks me to snap a couple of pictures. I realize that there is real film in the camera and suggest that I go up to the truck and get my digital camera. When I come back, she is snuggled up with him and I take a few pictures. Still trying to keep my attention, he asks about our marital status. “I have a boyfriend”, I say before my mouth can shut itself up. I do NOT know where that came from, but I wanted to make sure that Lou got his full attention. I could tell that she didn’t want to keep her hands off him. Then I say “why don’t you two go in the water and cool off?” Lou shoots me the “I hate you” look, but accompanies him down and into the water. Pretty soon, they’re kissing and Lou has her legs wrapped around his waist. (Yes-s-s-s-s-s I say to myself). We had to leave by 1:00, so the total time she spent with him was maybe an hour. They exchanged phone numbers, he helped us pack up the stuff from the beach and walked us to the truck. I slipped inside the truck and witnessed their parting kiss. Hot stuff allright! All the way home we talked about Fernando. He is going to be our date next week-end at the Candy Cane parade. Then, Lou is going to go home with him. If she doesn’t, I’ll never speak to her again.