There's Something In The Fog

It’s been pretty foggy since I arrived here in Ocean Shores. Damp, misty ole fog. I think it brings out the crazies…a couple of travelers pulled in yesterday in their ramshackle truck camper that they claim they bought for $200 (the camper, not the truck) and it shows. Theresa (aka Teres) and Charlie hail from Washington state, and are just on the last days of a 3 week tour of the western states. Charlie was dressed in swim shorts, t-shirt, black socks and sandals.(see kite flyer in photo) Balding head, very few teeth, and a VERY LOUD VOICE, no matter how many times I asked him to turn down the volume. Teres was dressed in her pink valentine jammies all day, with huge blue plastic star earrings. Wanting to spice up the otherwise dull day, I invited them over for a couple of beers. Then I made the mistake of telling them what I used to do for a living…child protection worker. Seems I’ll never learn, as revealing this information is nearly guaranteed to bring forth someone’s pissed off version of events they want my opinion on. This time it was both something Charlie had been reported for, and something he reported, neither of which were real child welfare issues, but he was damned determined he was going to secure an endorsement for his views, which unfortunately, I could not give him. He ended up getting so riled I had to ask him to either give the topic a rest or leave because I wasn’t going to discuss it further. The topics were downright stupid, and I was starting to get a little pissy with him, so he finally left and came back later to apologize. Whatever…my own fault for being honest about my occupation. Next time I’m just using my friend M’s suggestion…she tells people she is a painter. So I am going to just tell people I’m a writer, or a cook, or an underwater basket weaver…anything but a social worker. Teres tried to rein Charlie in, but he was TOO LOUD and didn’t hear her. Once he left the camper, the topic turned itself to her desire to be married to Charlie, and her unfulfilling sex life…oh my fuck. Rednecks are funny. By the time she left the camper, she was pretty drunk, had lain on my bed to take a photo of my John Lennon poster over my bed, had cried a few times, and had given me some interesting gifts. The first was what she called a “yankee candle” which was simply a big jar candle with a lid. It was also half-used. She had what she called a bead skirt on the candle, which her sister made. The other gift was 6 camouflage bandaids. Yes, bandaids. Like I said, rednecks are funny, and a good substitute for cable.

I seem to have gained the affections of the creepy guy who lives in a travel trailer behind the RV park office. I’d seen him around the park, running around in a golf cart. He’s 63 and also started giving me gifts…what is up with that? First he brought by a campfire ring (aka old washing machine drum) and a bundle of wood. He just chucked it down and said “here you go”. I hadn’t asked for one, and really wasn’t interested in a campfire, but whatever. The next gift he brought was a two-line kite, something someone had left here, and he had been unable to make sense of until I explained it needed two lines and joining the parts of the kites with rubber bands and extra pieces of string was not going to make it fly for him. He only had one line. I didn’t particularly want the kite, as it looked broken, but he didn’t leave a lot of choice, just left it with me. So I thought, sure, I’ll root out my kite line and give it a try at the beach later. Turns out I do not have the patience for a two-line kite and ended up leaving it broken, tangled and stuffed under a log at the beach after swearing at it for 20 minutes. I don’t know what my suitor will think, but I doubt he remembers it. He was quite a burnout that made little sense when he was talking to me. He did say he really liked me, and my mystery (mysteriousness?) – was I mysterious? How can I be mysterious in this very obvious hippy van? I’m not sure. Creepy guy also mentioned he went to Woodstock, in 1963…too bad it took place in 1969…

I swear, there is something in the fog.

I took a stroll through the town today, strolling on the very pedestrian unfriendly roads. At some places, it was impossible to continue down main street without walking right on the roadway, as they had left absolutely no space for people to walk. There was nothing real impressive to see, and I ended up stopping by the Pirate’s Cove Pub for lunch. Another disappointment. I ordered the chicken salad. I asked her what kind of salad it was and she said just plain lettuce salad. Um, okay. When it came, it had olives all over it, and a boiled egg sliced on the side along with a package of crackers. WTF? So I picked out that crap, and ate some of the salad, surrounded by pirate memorabilia.The waitress was particularly over-attentive and got on my fucking nerves. First she forgot my appetizer and then about 3 minutes after she brought my meal, she brought me the bill and asked if I wanted the rest of it wrapped up to go…WTF?

I’ve been craving a real cooked meal, but after stopping at several restaurants to review their menu, not much struck my fancy. So tonight, wanting to escape the park again, I took the free shuttle to the casino down the road to check out their buffet, and try my hand at the slots. I did well enough at the slots, though I don’t know why they call them slots anymore – there are no slots and no coins plinking down. They are simple VLT’s. But whatever, I lost my first $5 in a machine rather quickly, about 2 minutes, then I put $10 bill into the Hollywood slots and played for about an hour and a half. I came out with $19.60 that time, so took my winnings to try the buffet. I should have kept my cash…it was a very shitty buffet. The roast beef was still mooing, the turkey was crumbly, and the seafood looked like it was ready to crawl back into the ocean. Not that I would eat it, of course as I don’t eat seafood. The potatoes were cold enough that the butter didn’t melt on them, the rice was very dry and also cold, and the salad dressing was watered down. The roast beef was that damned chewy, I had to spit it all out on my plate. Gross. I spooned up some sautéed mushrooms, thinking they would go great with the beef, but they were ice cold. Maybe dessert would be better…the chocolate mousse was good, but the hot apple pie crust was that tough, I couldn’t cut it with my knife, so I gave up. Sigh…

I’ll be hauling out first thing in the morning, heading to the Gorge. The only thing I may miss about this area is the cooler weather as the Gorge has been blasted by hot sun this week and the venue is merciless with little shade…oh please let me be really drunk by then…