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My blog, where I store those thoughts rattling around my brain |
| Ukelele strings hummed from blown out speakers, the singer crooning through a static filter as I dragged hard on the joint. The hazy sensation crept up the back of my skull while I leaned back in my battered sedan and savored the warmth tickling my brain, tugging at my lips until my sour expression transformed into a beaming smile. God, I desperately needed this high. Living in a tourist trap of a town required healthy doses of patience, self-control, and sweet sweet Mary Jane. If not for these smoke breaks, I would have snapped on those pompous parasites and gotten my ass canned a long time ago. The weed helped sedate those flares of anger, mellowing me out. Hell, when I was high you could get all up in my face and call me every insult under the sun but I wouldn't rise to the occasion. Probably because I'd be too distracted staring at what's in your teeth. Or I just wouldn't care. Funny how that works, isn't it? Smoke curled, stinging my eyes as I puffed lazily and watched seagulls fighting over a parking lot bagel. If you think about it, booze is the exact opposite of ganja. Alcohol rewards impulsive behavior and gets me energetic while pot tends to make me introspective and low key. But I still get lectures on how harmful this stuff is while I witness red-faced tourists puking their guts out and laying comatose on park benches after a night of bar crawling. Uh-huh, darling. I'm sure that reefer madness is a real thing. There's something odd in the air though, a weird energy that I can sense. Maybe I'm just high. But I swear it feels like the calm before the storm. Which makes no sense, seeing as fall is the end of the busy season when all the summertime suckers go back to their homesteads to make their family miserable instead of me. I lean forward, peering at the sky. So much for a literal storm, the horizon couldn't have been a clearer blue. So what was I nervous about? What was this anticipation for? Maybe it was just the paranoia kicking in. Yeah, that's what it has to be. I like simple explanations. The seagulls screeched, tearing the stale bread in half. I chuckled and inhaled the last of the roach before chucking the butt out the window. Back to work, I guess. Those fifteen minutes always seem to pass in the blink of an bloodshot eye. When I walked back into the surf shop, my buddy Derek approached with a grim expression on his sun-tanned face. "Word has it that a group of buses just pulled up to the Lagoon Hotel." I cursed, kicking a cardboard box of plastic goggles. "Goddammit! Just when things quieted down a bit." He shrugged, taking the defeatist approach. "Well at least our boss will be happy. Lots of newbies willing to pay for surf lessons and equipment they'll never use again." "Do you know if it's a group thing? Maybe it's a college trip. We could get lucky and have a horde of sorority babes wandering the boardwalk." I waggled my eyebrows. Derek shook his head. "Not a chance. I have it on good authority that this is a different sort of crowd." "Ah hell. What are we dealing with? Yuppies? Foreigners? ... a cult?" I rubbed my face, wincing in preparation. He shot down each of my guesses and drew closer, speaking in a low voice. "Even worse. They're bloggers." 30 Day Challenge Day 3: You live in a tourist town. There's always an 'interesting' mix of visitors. But this year they are especially... different. In what way? |
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