Thursday, October 21, 2010

PACIFIC BEACH MONKEY

The next day was exhilarating, and it began very early, well getting up at nine in the morning is always an early rise for this dope monkey. Foggy I awoke with that dreamy Pacific binded to a half asleep-state of mind, my thoughts so giddy because this day-trip had been planned within an hour of crashing the previous night. Karen had some fresh fruit cut up and Rustin, Lisa ,and I ate lightly and hurriedly. Then we were off! The drive west filled an hour that thrust my excitement into acceleration, sense of a new adventure thrived as I gazed at the rapidly transforming landscape which raced alongside the telephone and power lines. The fervor continually compounded to the inner-depths of a sober head with words chattering at the shit-ton of un-restrained lunatics laughing and dancing just on the inner- surface of my skull. I welcomed them usually with sick hospitality, although the majority of the time they took advantage, abusing my welcoming attitude by treading painfully, prodding and burdening my soul.
When we arrived at Avila Beach I was freakin pumped. I was warned that the Pacific was very chilly even during the summer so I ran in for rapid dolphin-esque submerge, plunging in a methdoical swimmers dive right before the tide flowed up over my knees, and all my instincts from 10 years on the swim team growing up sank in. Anybody who knows anything knows this is the quickest method to get your body adjusted to cold waters. Lisa was hanging out with some of her friends, they were all pretty dang sexy, and I was too shy to talk therefore I instinctively resorted to showing off in order to obtain some much needed attention from all those bikini clad females present. I left Rustin and the girls behind, sprinting off towards the pier. Pedestrains, bicyclers, and fisherman all jumbled up and down the wooden salt swollen planks creating quite the atmosphere. As you have figured already I had never been to an ocean or beach yet in my life, maybe to the Gulf of Mexico as a young child but that doesnt fit into my adult memory as a credible life experience. I made my way down towards the end of the pier, everyones's focus was on me, or so I thought. I was the center of my own personal universal confusion. I was the cliche of teen angst, the stereotype of some young rebel that never heeded any warnings from adults who had been there before me. I figured they were all born ridiculously grown up and lost in the responsibilities of life. This was my warped sense of reality, but as soon as I climbed up on top of the railing I had drawn others in, several people's eye were now upon me, they gazed with intense curiosity. As I jumped off the pier, adrenaline engulfed and coursed thru my veins and headed towards my nerves. I had learned as a young boy from literally living and growing up in my parent's gymnastic's center, easy reckless ways to produce those chemicals that 'adrenaline junkies' often sought. The main reason people were basically staring, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, (looking at me like I was a maniac monkey) was because I had just broken a law that was common sense to the majority of the native beach bums. After swimming the distance of the pier back to shore I was quickly accosted by the local Beach Patrol Squad. The recently acquired marijauna leaf that I had tattooed on my back did not help my cause in not recieving a fat ticket for my offense. I had no idea jumping off the pier was now allowed. Luckily my ignorance produced a very plausible and believable defense which aided in my innocent 'dumb Texan' defense. They let me off with a warning. In the next ensuing years though my warnings were beginning to expire. I would find myself in and out of jails half dozen times a year, ever year the majority of my young adult life.