Perhaps the best part
of attending private universities and CSUs is the early freedom. This is why a
couple of days ago, my friend, Pilar, and I could be found at the beach. Both
of us being profuse people-haters, we were overjoyed with the broiling weather,
which meant that the beach would be an ideal temperature and there wouldn’t be a lot of annoying beachgoers because they’d
all be in school.
Yet, as most idealized beach days go, what we pictured
was not what we got.
The beach was packed—and not with old people who bask in
the sun because it feels good on their joints. There were families with
children who definitely should have been smashing blocks, spilling juice and
throwing temper tantrums in kindergarten classrooms and there were masses of
teenagers who definitely should have been safely asleep, drooling, inside their
3rd period civics class. But no matter. It was the first beach day
of the year, and—let’s face it—the people-watching was fabulous.
Even the gangstas showed up for some fun in the sun.
We first noticed them because of their mad slaps playing
at a distance, which isn’t particularly unusual at the beach, but what caused
us to continue to watch them was the fact that they never sat down.
It wasn’t as if we expected them to lay out their towels
and start sunbathing, but even the clan of high school boys nearest to us were
lounging about on the sand. The gangstas didn’t even seem to have towels. Which
explains why they were standing on the beach, I guess.
But they were standing on the beach in normal gangsta
attire. Not the saggy pants and extra-baggy t-shirt wardrobe (commonly referred
to as “gangsta daywear”) but white tank top undershirt, baggy shorts, knee-high
tube socks and Addidas mandal wardrobe (which I guess can now be referred to as
both “the gangsta summer wardrobe” and “gangsta beach chic” since they seem to
be interchangeable). I wonder if the socks helped protect their feet from the
scorching sand.
It occurred to me that perhaps the gangstas didn’t want
to get into the water at all—that perhaps they came to the beach to listen to
their music and stand around on the sand. Maybe people do that. I’ve still got
a lot to learn of the world, so I won’t dismiss the possibilities. But then
they blew my mind by wading into the water.
They went one at a time—the first one was clearly very
brave, for he submerged himself completely without complaint, while Pilar and I
stood at the shoreline, discreetly wincing anytime the water surprised us by
attacking above the knee. He began to shout at and taunt the others until the
second one finally felt goaded into getting into the water as well; however, he
had a tougher time than his friend. It turned out the socks did provide some protection against the
sand, because as soon as they came off, Number 2 Gangsta had to do this rapid
penguin-walk across the beach toward the water—but it was all in vain. The
water was too cold.
After a hefty string of expletives concerning the
temperature of the water, he decided that he would venture no farther than
either Pilar or I had gone, which is, again, understandable as the coldness of
the water was not in proportion to
the heat of the sand. While N2G tried to find the goldilocks zone of the water
and while Courageous Gangsta made friends with the other brave souls who had
submerged themselves below the neck, the third and final gangsta stood at a
distance, watching his other two friends uneasily. Perhaps it was the sporadic
curses issuing from N2G or perhaps it was the way the waves crashed over CG’s
head—at any rate, the third gangsta did not look like he cared to swim.
But they called to him. They heckled him. They beckoned
to him from his area of safety into the chilly undertow of the sea. He was not
easily persuaded. I don’t blame him; the chilly water and the lack of beach
towels would have been enough to deter me too, despite the incessant heat
radiating from the sun and reflecting off the sand. But true to gangsta
tradition, the effects of peer pressure set in, and 3rd Gangsta
eventually found himself awkwardly can-canning across the steamy sand after his
friends.
N2G stopped shouting at his straggler friend and turned
his complete efforts back into shouting about how cold the water was. It seemed
to truly make him upset. 3rd Gangsta didn’t stay long in the water.
Shortly after his entrance, he evacuated, claiming to have swallowed a
substantial amount of salt water.
They left the water one by one, in reverse order, and
soon they were back where they started, socks on, music turned up, trying to
play catch with the ditching high schoolers. I’d say it was a brave venture and
a new experience for all of them, and it was an altogether successful day at
the beach for the gangstas.
~ToriannaLamba
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