The perils of beach photography
You’d think, wouldn’t you, that after all these years of walking on the beach daily, Andy would have everything off to a fine art. And he had … mostly … until yesterday. You see, when Andy does his morning beach walk, I’m at the computer social media-ing. And that’s what I was doing until his text arrived …
It was a short message ‘Lost car keys’. Ah, I see the problem. When I say beach walk, it’s actually a shore walk as he normally is up to his ankles in the foam. At some point, his car keys had fallen out of a hole in his pocket and he’d no idea where. He hastily added dollar bills to the just-about-to-expire parking meter and retraced his steps. No keys. Well, that was understandable as the tide was coming in – the keys could have been in several feet of ocean by now.
I sent an equally brief text in reply ‘AAA?’
The reply was ‘Might have expired’.
Then I glanced at Andy’s desk and saw his wallet. In his wallet were, of course, his driver’s license, Triple A card, insurance card … how many times have I told him that he needs these things on him at all times? So, even if he managed to call Triple A on his phone – which only had a smidgeon of juice in it – how could he prove that it was his car?
By now, the sun was firmly in place in the Florida sky. Beating down. And down. And down. The temperature was approaching the nineties and Andy’s temper probably was too. And I don’t know about you but I walk on the beach wearing no shoes. So does Andy. So there he was, boiling, boiling mad, shoeless, with a locked car and a phone with hardly any power left.
I’m sorry, but I laughed – and laughed – and laughed. I’m still chuckling … don’t tell him