Beach Diary Part II: Another Pot Story

What do you know; there is a second part.  Wonder if there will be a third.   Who knows?

I'm not wearing my ponytail much here on the beach.  I am on vacation and, in the immortal words of David Crosby, I choose to "let my freak-flag fly."  I am usually also wearing my beat-up floppy hat as well so I imagine I must be a slightly unusual sight; HIPPIE ALEART!  Today I added a tye-dyed Greatful Dead "Muppets" themed shirt and baggy cargo shorts to the mix as I walked to the Otter for lunch.

I tend to miss "morning activities" while on vacation with the family, and today was no exception.   The rent-a-house on the beach was empty when I met the day, so I went to the Otter for lunch; a nice fun cheap place in a very expensive tourist trap.   I put on said GD shirt, floppy hat, cargo short, mirrored aviators, and left sans ponytail to grab me some morning fuel.

On my walk to the Otter, a black car rode up along side me as I walked away from the beach.   Inside I could not see much detail, but what I did told me a story.   I saw a thick tanned muscular arm with a massive tattooo leading  up to a spaghetti string shoulded muscle shirt, black of course, and dark shades under a black baseball cap...brim backwards.    I quickly looked about for hidden cameras wondering if Jersey Shore was doing a Florida special.  He was nice enough to turn down the music before he slowed down to a crawl to match my speed.

"Hey!"  He said.

"Yes?"  I was confused.  Nobody knows me here.

"Do you um...."

There was a long pause.  A very long pause.   I think I walked past two houses before the next syllybal came out.

"Do you know where to um..."

I knew where this was going.  Happened last year too.   The year before that, I was on the opposite end doing it to someone else.   Last year I was sitting on the beach at night, enjoying a cheap over the counter cigar, when a kid (I say "kid" because I am old and anyone under 25 is a kid) sat next to me and attempted some random meaningless small talk before asking me if I had any "weed."    I hate when people call it "weed" as "weed" has such a negative connotation.   I told him I didn't, finished my cigar, went home and smoked a bowl.   You can say "asshole" anytime now.

"Do you know where to um....get a bathing suit?"

He chickened out!  I know what I looked like to most people and know what he was looking for.   Lucky for him, he asked a question I could say "yes" to instead of my usual "I wish" answer as it happens a bathing suit store is located next to my favorite Mexican restaurant ever right here in Captiva.   I could give him detailed directions on where to get a bathing suit.  

He drove off and I was happy I could have helped someone here for once get what they were looking for.