After a day of driving and rafting, Mr. Darcy and I were only equipped for mellow plans that involved a lot of lounging and sun-worshiping. So we assessed a list of local beachy spots we had yet to check out and picked Golden Gardens as our destination.
(How I have lived here almost four years and not been to this place is beyond me. It’s the closest thing I’ve found to a beach yet. I should have listened to all those people who suggested it. Ahem.)
When we arrived we lucked out on parking as rows of cars idled, waiting for a parking space to open and we just so happened to be right where a car was pulling out of a prime parking spot. Thank you parking gods! We made our way to the sand and were both amazed that there is an actual beach so close. We giddily set up our blanket, removed our shoes, dug our toes in the sand and spread out our picnic delights.
The beach was full of people but not so full that it felt crowded. We were enjoying the sounds of beach-goers frolicking about relishing in the beautiful day. After weeks on end of gray skies and rain, this sunshine was just what everyone so desperately needed. As we’re lounging on the blanket, sunning ourselves and chatting a family arrived and parked themselves to the right of us. At first it’s fine, the kids are clamoring for soda and Doritos and we can tolerate it. But within 30 minutes the older girl begins to whine. Not just an occasional whiney remark but INCESSANT whining in this voice that is like nails on chalkboard. “Noooooooooo mama! You’re dooooooooooooing it wrong! You are stupid!” She’s berating her mother, this bitchy little 8 year old, complaining about her towel having sand on it or that she needs another soda or that her sister is annoying her and I look at Mr. Darcy and say, “This kid is making my ovaries dry up.”
We tried to endure it but then two guys decided to toss a football right near our blanket which would be fine except the football makes this horrendous whirring noise when its thrown. It has a tail on it and as they toss the damn thing it loudly screams, “wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”. Mr. Darcy looks at me dejectedly and says, “I can’t take it.” I agree and so we piled all our stuff into the middle of our blanket and hauled ass down the beach away from the offenders.
But no. Not ten minutes later after we’ve resettled ourselves a trio of douchebags took a load off on a large log behind us. At first I think, it’s not that bad. They are boasting of the long bike ride they apparently took to arrive at the beach. They are bros. You know the type. “Duuuuuude, blah blah blah.” I can’t even recount what they said because it was so inane. One guy was particularly douchey and was saying the same fucking thing over and over. Hey, dude, the reason you’re getting no response is because you are a boring douchey idiot. GAH! After overhearing a phone conversation between him and his wife Mr. Darcy looks over at me and asked, “Someone married that asshole?”
And so we decided that we needed to move again because they were harshing our beach mellow. We made our way off the beach to the grassy area where it was less populated and the worst thing were frisbee players but as everyone knows frisbee players are generally a laid back bunch.
Finally, a little peace and quiet in a pocket of sunshine. Just the two of us together lounging on a blanket, planning our future.