Jaybirds at the Beach

So, as soon as the weather breaks, and there is even a hint of summer, I’m digging out the beach umbrella, gathering up a blanket, packing a lunch into a cooler and I’m heading out for a day at the beach.

From childhood days of splashing at the water’s edge and building sand castles along a sandy shore to challenging roaring breakers of surf as I grew to be an adult, I have always been fascinated by the ocean. I love the beach. To me, it’s so much more than just a place to cool off on a hot day.

The sight and sound of the waves as they lap up calms and soothes me. The gulls that soar overhead, floating on gusts of wind that suspend them above, fascinate me. The sparkle on the water, the sun on my face, even the scent of tanning lotion always makes me smile. So, as soon as the weather breaks, and there is even a hint of summer, I’m digging out the beach umbrella, gathering up a blanket, packing a lunch into a cooler and I’m heading out for a day at the beach.

Some years ago, after fighting weekend traffic, driving around an overcrowded parking lot for what seemed like hours, and finally finding a parking place, my wife and I schlepped all of our gear out to a perfect spot close to the water. As I slipped off my shoes, slapped some coconut smelling lotion on my un-tanned body and prepared to lay back and enjoy a day in the sun, we overheard a conversation from the couple camped next to us.

“What do you mean there’s a nude beach? Where?” The guy next to us asked.

“Way down there.” His wife pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

Her husband squinted as he stared out into the distance. “I don’t see anything.” He shrugged.

“That’s why it’s way down there,” his wife whispered.

I have to admit, I was curious. “Did you hear that?” I asked my wife.

“I heard it,” she said, as she began to flip through the pages of a magazine she brought with her.

“You think it’s true?” I asked.

“Probably,” she answered without looking up.

“How about that. A nude beach. Right here. Hmmm. You know, I’m thinking maybe…”

She turned to me, peered over her sunglasses and said, “You want to go take a look.”

“I thought maybe we could just take a walk…down the beach….you know…maybe just…”

The liberated, open-minded woman my wife is, she smiled and shook her head. “C’mon Peeping Tom. Let’s go see.”

As we walked down the beach, undressed figures started to appear in the distance. The closer we got, the more we saw –people that is. There were couples and families. Naked little kids giggled as they splashed in the breakers. Bronze bodies mixed with milky white forms. People of every size, shape, and color sunbathed, picnicked, swam, played volleyball. There was an air of freedom. Everyone seemed so open. As we continued our walk, I actually began to feel a little bit self conscious wearing a bathing suit. I turned to my wife. “Why don’t we..?”

“Oh, no. I know what you’re thinking.”

“We should try it. It’s really no big deal. No one seems to even be paying attention. They’re all having so much fun.”

“You think we should try it. And what happens if we see somebody that we know?” my wife asked.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not going to see anyone that we know.” I reassured her.

“You really don’t think we’ll see anyone?”

“We just walked past more than a hundred people. There wasn’t a familiar face in the bunch. What are the odds that we’re going to see someone that we know?”

“Are you sure?” she asked shyly.

“I’m sure.” I smiled confidently, took a deep breath and, off came my trunks. Only partially convinced, my wife grudgingly agreed to slip off her top. We joined hands and took our first Adam and Eve step. That’s when we heard it.

“Hi, Jeff.”

My head snapped around, I looked down and, there was my next door neighbor sitting in the sand! So, there we were, naked as Jaybirds. The three of us seeing each other in a new light, so to speak. My wife quickly slipped on her sunglasses in some vain attempt to conceal her true identity, like Clark Kent slapping on his shades and expecting no one to notice the big red S on his chest. After responding with a weak wave, we made an about face.

As we headed back to the safety of our blanket, my wife, still blushing,  rolled her eyes and muttered, “What are the odds?”