Lifeguards Hate Me

One afternoon Autumn and I went with her annoying stepmother to Pacific Beach. We were planning on doing some boogie boarding in the surf. I hadn’t done anything like that since I was a kid so it sounded like fun. The first and last time I boogie boarded some waves was when I was in grade school. I went with a bunch of kids from school on a day trip out to the coast. I remember it wasn’t much fun once we got into the water because around where I live the ocean is pretty god damned cold. On one of my first attempts to catch a wave I got slammed into the sand belly first and my swim trunks scooped up a nice collection of rocks, driftwood, and sand. All the debris collected around my nuts as soon as I stood up. I was unhappy. I had to get all that junk out of there but I didn’t want anyone to see me digging around in my shorts like a maniac and assume I was pulling on myself, so I tried to stay in the freezing cold surf while emptying the unwanted cargo from my crotch. Late that afternoon when I got home the last of the rocks landed on my bathroom floor. I made up my mind never to try boogie boarding again.

The water at Pacific Beach was cold. Too cold. I figured it would be warm like a heated swimming pool since we were so far South. Maybe it gets warmer here during the summer, I don’t know, but it sure wasn’t all that great in April. Autumn and I hit the water anyway and swam out on our boards far enough to get some unwanted attention from the lifeguard tower back on the beach. Someone began yelling at us over a shitty PA system. Neither Autumn or I could understand a word the lifeguards were shouting at us so we decided to ignore them. After all, we weren’t doing anything wrong and we didn’t seem to be in any sort of danger. I thought they must have been high.

Apparently, lifeguards expect action out of people they’re yelling at. Since neither one of us responded to their undecipherable verbal assault they sent out an orange wagon of hate to give us the message up front, whatever that message was I had no idea. Looking back at the small figures on the beach I saw Autumn’s stepmother walk over to the driver’s side of the orange wagon and talk to the person behind the wheel. At that point I decided maybe we had better go back and find out what they wanted. I swam back toward the beach and Autumn was right beside me. When we finally got to dry land I stood up and shouted to Autumn’s stepmother, “What are they squeaking about?” This scored me zero points with the lifeguards in the orange vehicle. They didn’t want to talk to me.

Autumn’s stepmom explained to the lifeguards that we were dumbshits from out of town. The reason they freaked out was because we swam too far out from the beach and went into a cross-current rip tide area. They also said we got too close to a pier and when they first started yelling at us we got off our boards, which to lifeguards is some sort of signal that you’re in trouble. So they got excited. After publicly shaming us, they drove down the beach to their observation tower. I have to admit, I was embarrassed. Everyone on the beach knew we were chumps and they were staring at us. I wanted to somehow melt into the crowd of people and beach towels further away from the scene so I could hide from the public slap on the wrist we had received.

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~ by factorypeasant on October 8, 2005.

2 Responses to “Lifeguards Hate Me”

  1. Apparently, you are not meant to boogie board.

  2. yeah…

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