For the first time in a while, the Atlantic took a deep sigh long enough to allow some friends and i to get out on the water. Several lobster even came out to play, and thanks to sir alex, we bagged three of them buggers.
Satisfied with our catch, we headed in, cleaned them up, starting back down the beach toward my car. rather than carry my kayak back, i chose to paddle it along the shore. with nowhere to put my lobster tail, i put it in my pocket, removing my car keys, placing them on the center console type deal: a decision that would haunt me until, well, I'm still kicking myself.
A quarter mile paddle or so, i wound up about 10 feet shy of directly in front of where the beach opened up to Clarke Ave. Bad decision number two told me to turn the boat away from the shore, to paddle a few more feet, leaving the port side of my meager vessel completely vulnerable to nothing other than a two foot rogue wave, which sent both my awkward flailing body and my only set of car keys into the three foot, sandy, shell-filled abyss. i was literally a step from shore but my keys were quite literally no where to be found. two couples drinking corona watched and snickered as i dove down several times, coming up with handfuls of frustration. one guy recommended that i sift through the sand. awesome.
I guess the world would be a much different place if we all did things smart the first time, but i can't help but wonder.
A few hours on the sidewalk and a pretty penny later, i had a new key, and one more reason to never underestimate the power of a rogue wave.
2 comments:
haha! im sorry to say that im laughing in pity for you.
ps you stuck a lobster tail in your pocket?!
lost keys: the story of our lives.
at least we know.
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