The Greasy Food

I spent a good deal of today walking to and fro around Newport Beach California. I stopped for coffee, I took some pictures and of course I spent some of the time talking to people that I ran into at various locations around town. The people aren't very much different from the people you will run into anywhere. Most are nice and willing to share experiences with you if you show an interest in them.

I ran into a guy who was about my age that was at the back of his van waxing up his surf board. I asked him what he was doing and if the wax really made a difference. I knew the answer, but if you stop to talk to a guy and tell him what he is doing it just kind of kills the conversation. He said that he was waxing his board and that you really don't need the wax unless you want to stay on it. Heh...heh...heh. He told me that he was pretty anal about the way that he waxes the board, waxing where he stands, where he sits and where he puts his hands. It kind of makes sense, okay it makes a lot of sense.

I asked how often he would need to take the wax off and he handed me the wax, told me to feel how heavy it was. I barely knew that I was holding a block of wax. and He then said that when he cleans it off it will weigh about four or five pounds with all of the sand and other crap that sticks to the board. He makes little snowmen and puts them on a shelf in his garage. Pretty odd, but I could see myself doing the same thing. He told me that when he was a kid he was into cars and then saw a Frankie and Annette beach movie. He realized that not only could he love cars, but he could hang out at the beach and surf. It was a life changing experience! I wished him well and continued on.

I next walked into a bike shop and met a guy that was a fourth generation trucker from the east coast. He said that he got so fed up with the union that he said "Fuck It" and moved out to Newport beach, and opened a Cruiser bike shop. He had some of the most beautiful bikes that I had ever seen. In fact, one of the bikes was "Bejewelled". He didn't like the unions very much. He encouraged me to rent or buy a bike and I just smiled and said that you never know, as I walked out of the shop.

I walked over to the boardwalk and checked out a couple of stores. I don't know why. Unless they started to give the stuff away I wouldn't buy anything; well, not for those prices anyways. This grizzled old guy with a peeling face, no shirt and a Santa Clause smile put out his hand and asked if I were Stephen Speilberg. I shook his hand and said I wish! We started to talk about the economy and what America needs to do in order to get back in the black. I said that I guess no one knows. He told me that he did. When the recession hit he was an investment banker out east. This guy really did lose his shirt! I told him that I had to get motoring and to have a great day. I really didn't have anywhere to go, but I could sense I was about to be touched for some spare change, also, I had had a chance to look closer at his face and I wasn't sure it was just peeling skin. It may have been some kind of contagious skin disease and I wanted to wash my hands in bleach if at all possible.

You know, when you try not to touch your face with your hands, it is almost impossible. It has been about four hours now, and I feel like I have ants crawling all over my body. "Is that a rash? Flakey skin? Oh...I don't feel so good." Must be the greasy food. Yeah, that's it, the greasy food.