I spent hours sitting on a beach on Sunday. In Queens
Dave and his friends share an apartment at Rockaway Beach. The walls are covered in surf boards and the closets filled with wet suits. There is a futon and sleeping bags and no curtains. The fridge is mostly empty and there are six or seven beach towels hanging on the bathroom door. It's a beautiful place, tiny and full of light. The porch is covered in wisteria and a hammock swings right underneath. Just down the street is the ocean.
We spent the night in Rockaway - listening to the hoards of drunks spilling out of the bar next door. We fell asleep watching the olympics, waking up at 3am to turn the TV off during a ping pong match. In the morning, with bagels and coffee we went down to the beach. Dave brought his board and I brought my book. Slathered in sunscreen, I watched the tropical teenagers nearby, all shiny and brown from the summer sun. A mom, missing several teeth and wearing a tight flowered bikini, yelled, "Christopha! Get ovva here! Christopha!" Just in front of me, a rotund man with a tight, round tummy tottered around in the sand on a cell phone, jabbering away in Polish. A family gathered on the other side, buying Italian ice from a vendor with a rolling cooler. The two young boys wore hand-me-down Winnie the Pooh bathing suits, a size too large, Pooh's face sagging in back. Directly above me, a flight path from JFK airport, the belly of planes inches from my face and a deafening sound.
I cautiously tested out the water, the waves pushed my feet and then tried to suck me in. The sand just eroded under my feet, sliding back with the waves. Dave wants me to surf......not ready yet. I am ready to just stand there and walk out until the water hits my waist, thinking about jellyfish and sharks and pee. The water - a little bit cold. Just enough to make me suck in my breath when the waves crash.
When our friends met us at lunchtime, they brought tacos from a place down the street. Cabbage and tofu and avocado and hot sauce, breaded fish for some, pork. Fried plantains and fresh tortillas.
Sandy and salty and a little suburnt, I am happy.
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when i moved and drove into new york, i went through the brooklyn battery tunnel and the toll guy looked into my car, which was filled with plants, and said, "it looks like you got da brooklyn bahtanic gahdens in deh!" then he saw hazel and piggie, loose, walking around amongst the plants, and laughed, "and da zoo!" i told him i just drove from chicago. he said, "say w-a-t-e-r" and when i repeated "water" in my midwest accent, he laughed and said, "you wait...that'll change!"
