battle of the white trash clans (also known as: when I pray the tourists will stay home next time)
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My kids have half-days all this week due to parent/teacher conferences (OH GOODY was my first reaction), but we made the most of it by heading to the beach. The past couple of days have been unseasonably warm. And not just warm, but HOT. Lovely, gloriously, freakishly hot. I'm talking at least 80 degrees today.
So I'm enjoying the beach, sitting under the umbrella, rubbing my feet in the sand . I look up to see a large group of people practically setting up camp on the beach. These were an unsavory-looking group - chock full of mullets, tattoos, wife-beater tank tops, black levis and Motley Crue t-shirts (yes, black levis on the beach - go figure?). I watched in amusement as it took four of them to put up their umbrella. With ghetto-blaster rocking (didn't know anyone even had ghetto-blasters anymore), they were all set. Pretty soon, out came the case of beer.
Which they consumed in all of ten minutes.
Thankfully, one couple was able to stop making out long enough to make a beer run.
Well, wouldn't you know it - here comes another group. They looked so much like the first ones, you would have thought they were related/inbred cousins. And with the beach practically deserted, they wisely, and ever-so-thoughtfully, chose to set their blankets up about 10 feet from the first group.
Only the second group wasn't so keen on the beer drinking (which is actually illegal at this beach). They also didn't like the loud metal music blasting from the stereo (shocker - I would have thought it was right up their alley). Not too politely, the one with the most tattoos asked them to turn their music down.
Just in time for beer-run couple to return with more beer. Upon which, they were not so thrilled that the Metallica was being turned down. They responded by playing the music so loud that even the seagulls drowned themselves just to make it stop.
This led to a hilarious back-and-forth name calling/stuff struttin'/chain smoking/beer drinking/'you-talkin'-to me?' power struggle between the rival clans.
The battle came to a close when the park ranger pulled up and came down on them for the liquor. I was hoping for a Jerry Springer-style battle in which they pulled hair, shouted obscenities, and lifted up their shirts to show off the goods.
Maybe next time.
So I'm enjoying the beach, sitting under the umbrella, rubbing my feet in the sand . I look up to see a large group of people practically setting up camp on the beach. These were an unsavory-looking group - chock full of mullets, tattoos, wife-beater tank tops, black levis and Motley Crue t-shirts (yes, black levis on the beach - go figure?). I watched in amusement as it took four of them to put up their umbrella. With ghetto-blaster rocking (didn't know anyone even had ghetto-blasters anymore), they were all set. Pretty soon, out came the case of beer.
Which they consumed in all of ten minutes.
Thankfully, one couple was able to stop making out long enough to make a beer run.
Well, wouldn't you know it - here comes another group. They looked so much like the first ones, you would have thought they were related/inbred cousins. And with the beach practically deserted, they wisely, and ever-so-thoughtfully, chose to set their blankets up about 10 feet from the first group.
Only the second group wasn't so keen on the beer drinking (which is actually illegal at this beach). They also didn't like the loud metal music blasting from the stereo (shocker - I would have thought it was right up their alley). Not too politely, the one with the most tattoos asked them to turn their music down.
Just in time for beer-run couple to return with more beer. Upon which, they were not so thrilled that the Metallica was being turned down. They responded by playing the music so loud that even the seagulls drowned themselves just to make it stop.
This led to a hilarious back-and-forth name calling/stuff struttin'/chain smoking/beer drinking/'you-talkin'-to me?' power struggle between the rival clans.
The battle came to a close when the park ranger pulled up and came down on them for the liquor. I was hoping for a Jerry Springer-style battle in which they pulled hair, shouted obscenities, and lifted up their shirts to show off the goods.
Maybe next time.
