Party at Horror Beach

I was thumbing through my old Yearbook from my old Alma Mater – Dewey Bilkum Chiropractic College the other day, when I stumbled across a picture of a couple of students that seemed vaguely familiar.

Actually, it was two seated students to be exact. Their bodies sat precariously perched on two hardback chairs with faces that were locked in frozen expressions that were supposed to be approximations of a smile.

In short, they looked like people trying to look natural but failing miserably. 

Under the photo, there was a short caption that stated – “Students relaxing and having fun after class.”

To my cynical eye, it looked like the pair were having anything but “fun.”

“Hello, I know you two from somewhere,” I thought.

Then it hit me. 

Oh my God, It was Clara and Bob Elderberry. I hadn’t seen these two since my wife and I had hung out with them at the beach years ago.

“Yep, I bet they never forgot me,” I chuckled, slamming the yearbook back into my overstuffed bookshelf. 

Clara and Bob Elderberry were a boring married couple I had gone to school with back in the 1990s.

They were totally boring with a capital “B”!

They were the kind of people that probably thought playing a few exciting rounds of Yahtzee was tantamount to foreplay before sexual intercourse.

Anyway, suffice it to say that this very “Up with People” looking couple fitted right in a school run by Mormons who were out to make a buck off its delusional students while I, on the other hand, with my long hair down to my ass and Black Sabbath T-Shirts did not.

Why on earth did Patricia, my first wife, think it would be a good idea to spend the afternoon with them at the beach was anyone’s guess.

***

“Please Charles, it’ll be fun and besides we never do anything with our classmates anyway,” she said.

I hid behind my copy of the “Heavy Metal” magazine and didn’t say anything.

“Charles?”

“What?” I said.

“Can I tell Clara and Bob we’re on for this Saturday at Stinson Beach?”

I grunted.

“Is that a “yes”?” said Patricia. 

“Aww geez…this Saturday? I was planning on going to the Comic-Con at the Oakland Civic Center this Saturday with my friend Don.”

“It’s going Thursday through Sunday. You can go on any other day besides Saturday,” said Patricia.

“But, Neil Gaiman is gonna be there signing autographs and…” 

“He’ll be there all weekend,  I checked,” said Patricia.

“Sigh.  Look I know you are friendly with Clara in Anatomy class but, I don’t think we’re a good match.”

“They’re good people,” said Patricia. 

I snorted in derision. 

“They are. They’re cool. You’d probably like them if you gave them a chance.”

“They’re boring, Patty. Also, I think they are closeted fundamentalists. You know those kinds of people make me uncomfortable.  I’m always worried I’m going to offend them by swearing or some shit like that.”

“Well, Clara did say she met Bob doing Missionary work in Africa…”

“AHA! They’re Fundies. That’s a big IxNay, Lady,” I said.

“Okay, they might be a little uptight but I want to give it a go. Who knows it might be fun.”

“Patty, I really think this is a bad idea,” I said.

“I’ll let you use the Visa Gold card at the Convention.”

“Hey, no fair. That’s blackmail.”

“And we can all go to the Pelican Inn for a few pints once we hit the beach,” said Patricia. 

“Oh, you fight dirty, woman. Okay, you gotta deal.”

“One last thing…” 

“What?”

When we meet them, don’t be an asshole, Charles,” said Patricia.

“Who me?”

***

Now that I have introduced the players, I need to take you back a week before the calamitous meeting to the day I decided to play hooky from school.

It was a beautiful Spring morning and I was in no mood to attend the tediously taught classes at Dewey Bilkum. 

Since I had the day to myself, as Patricia had already left for school – I was pretty much a free agent.

With the temperatures climbing rapidly and sunny I decided to head to Stinson Beach out in Marin.

“To heck with school,” I thought, climbing into our battered Ford Escort.

The trusty wreck got me to the beach without any mishaps and by the time I clambered out of the car the temperatures at Stinson Beach were already hitting a high seventy degrees

Much to my luck, the beach was deserted.

And it was glorious.

I walked up and down barefoot. The wet sand squished pleasantly between my toes and I would stop now and then to pick up shells or small stones which I would leisurely cast back into the ocean.

After I bit I noticed a small outcropping of rocks and with a little scrambling came upon an empty private beach.

I immediately dubbed it mine.

I surveyed the open beach for a while before sitting down and enjoying the moment. With my eyes closed I could hear waves pleasantly breaking and the faint cries of seagulls.

After an hour or so, I figured it was time to head back home. 

“I gotta tell Patty about this beach,” I thought, slapping the sand off my bottom, “she’d probably dig it.”

***

Ya know when you and the people you are hanging out with are totally incompatible? There are always these little awkward moments where there are uncomfortable silences and you kind of stare at each other like spectators at the zoo.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up how our Couples Saturday get-together went.

“It’s not like they’re bad people…just different,”  I thought watching Bob and Clara throw a frisbee back and forth to each other on the beach.

I knew this day was kind of important for Patricia so I did my best to be agreeable. Translated: I kept my mouth shut most of the time. 

But before calling it a day, I figured I’d score some points with everyone by showing my latest discovery. 

After all, who doesn’t like nature? 

“C’mon Guys let me show you something really cool,” I said.

Leading the way, I herded our little band over to the outcropping rocks and after skirting that obstacle I stood and pointed at the private shore.

“And this is my favorite part of the beach!” I said proudly.

I heard a horrified gasp from someone behind me as I realized that the beach was completely packed with hundreds and hundreds of people.

And they were all…

nude.

Bare Ass!

OBSCENELY BUCK NAKED!!

If there was ever a case of why people shouldn’t go au naturel in public – there it was in God-awful technicolor.

“Bu…but, but, but,” I babbled, desperately trying to explain that this was a terrible mistake, but all I got were accusatory looks that screamed – ” YOU! PERV!!”

Well, the day was shot and that was the last time we ever saw Clara and Bob again socially. 

Of course, I would later pass one of them in the hallways at school but they would assiduously avoid making eye contact with me.

The Comic-Con Convention turned out to be a bust that year. And I spent the following week sleeping on the couch.

The subject of hanging out with other couples was never mentioned again.