Tangent time
Kaila. Present and accounted for. Sort of. Hey. Tangent time. Strap in. Tight.
Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Another tangent.
Who woulda seen THAT coming? Where should I start?
At the beach. Always a good place, don’t you think…
My little beach town. Love it.

On the grass. Just above the beach.
Hanging out. Not the first time. VFW. I’m a veteran.
Not to mix metaphors. But this ain’t my first rodeo.
“Hey… nobody likes a metaphor mixer. You’re better than that!!!”
I know, I just can’t help it sometimes..
Like I said, I’m a VFW (tourists EVERYWHERE!!)
Like I said. VFW. Our surf club events are held at the local VFW. Which is Veterans of Foreign Wars.
This isn’t THAT VFW. But, I liked the name, so I kinda mis-appropriated it.
Hey. I’m 16. You can get away with this kind of thing when you’re a 16 year old girl.
Again, no disrespect to our local VFW. Love ‘em.
Respect.
A LOT OF RESPECT FOR THEM!!!
Today’s VFW is a tad different. I’m a veteran. The foreigners are from all over the world.
Also known as tourist.
Touristas.
Tourists flood into SoCal in the summer.
My little beach town’s no different. They just seem more arrogant here because it’s an expensive town.
You’ve heard of it. But, I ain’t naming names, surf breaks, or locations. At least, most of the time.
It’s a WAR – in beach towns – It’s us vs. The Tourists
Like I said, it’s a war. A cultural war is what it is. The whole freakin’ world against our little beach town. Or so it seems.
Like I said, strap in.
Tighter.
Good.
A cultural war between the tourists and the locals. Guess which side I’m on?
A veteran. A veteran of foreign wars.
Back to where we were. Hanging at the beach. Checking it all out. Another gorgeous day.
Surprise. It’s San Diego. Sunny. Not a cloud in the sky.
Nice. Summer. Day.
Small fun surf.
Another clue. West facing beach. So, yes, it’s small. We get surf in the fall, spring, and during the winter, it’s on. In the summer, not so much. But the water’s warm.
I want Starbucks
I’m thinking I want Starbucks. I’ll be the first to tell you, I like Starbucks. It’s a short walk from the beach. Two or three blocks.
I’d say I could do the walk with my eyes closed. Sometimes it feels that way. Like I’m doing the walk with my eyes closed. That’s one of the reasons why you go to Starbucks. Because you feel THAT WAY.
Shifting gears. Again. Like I said. Strap in. It’s gonna get bumpy. Lots of curves.
You’ll see.
I’m a private person
You might not realize it, but I’m kind of a private person. But, if this whole The Original Surfers thing is going to work out, I’ve got to open up a little, I figure.
Let people know me better. This is one of those times. Okay. Open up time.
Order phobia
Like an open door. I’ve got “order phobia.” I don’t like going into a store and having to talk.
Target, clothing stores, surf shops, or other stores aren’t so bad. You walk in, pick out what you want, put it on the counter by the register. Pay. Leave. You don’t have to talk. Perfect. For me. At Starbucks, it’s different. You have to talk. Give them your order. I just don’t like to do that. Silly. Huh? I’m not sure if its “order phobia” or “talk to strangers phobia.” But, it’s a phobia. Nevertheless.
It’s all about baby steps
See I opened up a little. Baby steps. Tradeoff time. If I want Starbucks, I’m going to have to ORDER.
My eyes are closed. The sun is getting hot.
I can feel it. I must have dozed off. Happens.
“Anybody want Starbucks?” I ask.
No one responds. I must not be the only one napping. Maybe they have their ear buds in. I’m getting ready to ask again.
“I’ll go,” a friend of mine, a couple of towels down says. I don’t want to name names.
I also don’t want to call her “girl a couple of towels down.” So, I’ll call her Jessica. No, not that Jessica. This is a made-up name. Girl’s incognito. I don’t want to embarrass her with the upcoming drama. Bad enough I’m embarrassing myself.
But, you’ve come to, if not expect drama from me, not be surprised by dramarama with me.
“Anybody want anything from Starbucks?” I ask.
Silence.
Guess not.
Jessica and I both stand up.
We’re slipping on our board shorts and Baby T’s. It’s how we roll.
It ain’t true, people in beach towns walk in Southern California
They say nobody walks in Southern California. Not true. Drive two blocks to wait an hour to find a parking spot?
No thanks.
In crowded beach towns. People walk.
We do.
Walk.
People-watching every step of the way.
Hey. Why not? Takes all kinds. Oh boy. Does it… Like I mentioned earlier.

Strap in. Fruitcake city.
Or fruitcake beach.
Only this isn’t Venice Beach. The walk up to Starbucks is delayed because – we run into some girls I went to elementary school with. We go to different high schools now. Another clue. Say hello.
“Can I buy a vowel?” Wait. That’s another story.
We’ll get there. Some day.
The line at Starbucks is silly ugh. We walked all the way up here. So we get in line. I’m getting Starbucks. “Come heck or high water,” I’m thinking. Prophetic is what I am. Unfortunately.

You can tell tourists by the way they dress…..
The line is mostly tourists. You can tell by how they dress. Not beach casual. Nope.
Like I said VFW. No parking. Lots of traffic. Crowded. Long lines. It’s summer.
What did you expect?
Really… So what do we do?
We pull out our phones and do what we do. Same as you, in a line. Minding our own business.
I talk, in an earlier post about looking. Actually peeping.
This post is all about listening.
Even when you don’t want to. Especially when you don’t want to.
They call it eavesdropping.
What happens when you’re in line at Starbucks, and the people in line are loud?
Very. Loud. They’re right in front of us.
I’m looking at my phone, I glance up at Jessica. We make eye contact. Like a what’s up with these people?
Look. Like really? We don’t want to listen. But, they’re so loud.
I wonder, ”are their ears clogged?”
They’re standing right next to each other, for crying out loud. Pun intended.
Then I figure out what they’re talking about.
Oh my. Jessica has a look on her face.
I’m sure it matches mine. Shock. Disbelief. Did I just hear what I heard?
Couldn’t have been. No way Jose. You don’t want to listen.
But, at this point you have to. Like driving by a traffic accident. You just have to look. Everybody does. Only, this isn’t no “accident.”
More like a hit and run is what it is.
Figuratively, as it turns out.
And quite literally if I’m understanding the conversation.
Eavesdropping implies it’s a private conversation.
While this conversation should certainly be private, it’s anything but, based upon the nervous looks coming from everyone else in line
I make myself clear?
I don’t want to stand in this line to begin with.
Potty mouth!!!

Now I have Ms. Potty mouth and Ms. Potty mouth’s sidekick in front of me. After a few more sentences from Ms. Pottymouth, I’ve decided, like the airlines, she deserves an immediate upgrade… She’s been upgraded. To Ms. Sewermouth.
I’m sure at this point, I’m just as red as Jessica. Heck, everyone in Starbucks, is beet red.
Like I said, we’re standing right behind them in line.
If they had spoken quietly we could hear them. But, no. I’m talking about Ms. Microphone and her obviously ear-clogged friend.
I’m sure people outside sitting on the patio can hear them.
Heck, the people stopped at the redlight with their windows down, I’m sure they’re immediately rolling up their windows and turning up their stereos. Us in line, we have none of these options.
A visual might be in order at this point. Two women. Close to girls. Late teens. Maybe early 20’s. Hard to tell.
Designer everything. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
Not uncommon in our beach town. But… Definitely attractive.
In the “I’m from New York, and you’re not sort of way.”
It’s not just the words.
It’s the subject matter. I
’m pretty sure, not one person in Starbucks wants to hear one more word about what they did last night… well, we’ll just leave it at that.
Have you seen the movie, “My Cousin Vinny?”
That type of New York accent without any of the charm.
Jessica puts her hand over her face. Looking down in disbelief. I glance at the other people in Starbucks.
They’re all having the same, “can you believe this?” reaction we’re having.
How loud is it?
Think a mouth like a motorbike. With a heavy metal concert sound system.
Grandma’s having a coronary

I turn and look at the grandmother behind me. She’s having a coronary it seems.
No. Don’t make me use the CPR I learned at Junior Lifeguards.
I just know grandma’s going to croak. Come on. Hang in there grandma. You’ve got this. Breathe.
I….
I just can’t.
I just can’t take it anymore.
Sorry.
I try my hardest – but I can’t stop…..
I’ve tried my hardest. But I give up. I put my head down. My hand is draped over my forehead. I’m trying. Honest. But I can’t. I’m really trying. Hard. But, I can’t help it.
I start cracking up. It starts in my stomach.
Rolling. Oh boy.
One of those you can’t stop, even though you want to.
I glance over at Jessica. Seems like I’ve got her going too.
It’s one of those, the harder you try not to laugh, the more you laugh.
Worse yet, poor Jessica has one of those laughs that’s almost part hiccup, part sounding like she’s just run a sprint and she’s trying to breathe, with a snort.
Which, of course, sets me off even more.
The other people at Starbucks are now looking at us sideways.
Many are laughing also. It’s contagious.
Even grandma starts to chuckle.
Ms. Sewermouth and Ms Sewermouth 2.0 realize it seems, that everyone is laughing at them. Ms. Sewermouth glares at both of us.
She crosses her arms, while looking us up and down.
Disgusted.
Like women do. She snaps around.
Her hair like a whip.
Beautiful silence.
We can’t stop laughing.
Now grandma is out and out laughing. Way to come back granny. I knew you had it in you all along.
The best medicine
It seems the only thing that could shut them up is laughter. The best medicine.
Is this eavesdropping?
Now you tell me.
Are we eavesdropping?
Or minding our own business?
VFW. I think of myself as a war correspondent.
Bringing you the nitty, not so pretty, news.
On the beach battle front.
From a small beach town.
Down San Diego way.
Until next time.

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