Beachless Summer

Can you ever imagine living less than 1 mile to the beach, less than a 10 minute bike ride, and not spending even 5 minutes of your summer on the clean sandy beaches of quaint Bay Head. With my wife working both weekend days I just couldn't find the energy or motivation to make the trek down Osborne Ave to the waiting Atlantic Ocean. Many times I found myself with towel in hand and bathing suit on and instead of hopping on the bike, I walked across the street to my sisters much more convenient in-ground pool. My next summers resolution is to spend at least 4 hours of every summer weekend soaking up rays and splashing around in the salty ocean waves of the Jersey Shore which I have taken for granted.

Phew! Summer has come to an end!!!

Wow! That had to be the fastest summer ever. From Memorial Day to Labor Day I worked an average of 67 hours a week and had exactly 2 days off, and those 2 days were spent rehabbing from a nasty gash on my shin and an ankle sprain that occurred while working through a thunderstorm and a power outage at the Parker House. Speaking of The Parker House, my stats this year were as follows: 10 highly intoxicated individuals personnaly escorted from the premises, 4 went like gentleman, 2 needed a little coaxing, and 4 I had to introduce their faces to our stone driveway before drunken common sense convinced them to be escorted out in an orderly fashion. The one I don't take any credit for, because I didn't have to lift a finger happened like this, a barback was pushing this drunk guy up the stairs screaming for him to get out, the guy was twice his size but this barback was pissed! I moved some people to clear a path for this ejection and began following them out, the drunk guy broke away from the barback and they both squared off, ready to fight. I stepped between them and asked what happened, the barback said the guy was an a-hole and had his thingy out in the bar. I then stepped next to the barback and said Eff him, lets drag him into the trees and kick the sh*t out of him. The drunk looked into our eyes and sprinted out of the parking lot with us half heartedly chasing behind him. I then asked the barback what really happened and he said he was ducking out from behind the bar and this guy had his thingy out and it hit him square in the forehead. It was then that I fully understood his anger and I vowed to remember the drunks face, but he never returned. When he later told this story to a few of his co-workers, the hazing began in earnest. Did this make the barback gay? What kind of sound did the object make when it hit his forehead, a thump or just a little slap? Was it really just his forehead or did it hit him square in the mouth? One guy actually brought in a fake one and was chasing the kid around with it! What fun behind the scenes of a popular local nightspot! More of my summer to come...