Stuff going on...so haven't posted much...which doesn't made sense because writing helps me sort stuff out. Anyhow, here's one that made me laugh. Laughing is good...
We moved into an oceanside condo in Old Orchard Beach (OOB) on May 1st and, for the most part, we have revelled in the experience. The morning sunrise views from our bedroom, the beach walks, the family time boogie boarding in the surprisingly warm ocean have been glorious.
It was a hot July day when Connie and I walked the 2 miles down the beach to the Pier, through the hoard of French Canadians with their colorful beach umbrellas and their skimpy speedo suits. It was something we did regularly and enjoyed thoroughly.
On this particular day Connie wanted to sit among the tourists and eat some pier fries followed by some tee shirt shopping for the grandsons. While she shopped, I headed to the public bathroom. When I was a teenager cruising the Pier for hot French girls, it cost 10 cents to use the pissery. Times change...
The short, round, frizzy haired, 50's something woman sat on a stool behind the counter.
"50 cents," she demanded.
"Sure." I acquiesced. "I remember when it was a dime."
"You're fucking old," she said with a chuckle.
The facility was much as I remembered, especially the odor of stale urine and the rusted, gray stalls. After getting my 50 cents worth, I headed back through the entrance, which was blocked by a mother and a young man in a wheelchair.
The mother said, "But I need a handicap stall."
The round woman replied, "There is a handicapped stall in the men's room."
The mother was perplexed.
"Can I help you," I asked.
The young man looked up and grinned giving his unspoken permission. "Thank you so much," the mother agreed.
I wheeled the 15 year old, severely muscular distrophied young man into the handicap stall. I helped him stand, pulled down his shorts and pivoted him onto the hopper. He looked up and grinned.
"What's your name, buddy?" I asked.
"Timmy."
"And where do you live?"
"Spring Street." he smiled.
Sweet kid. "What town?" I asked.
"Norway."
"So you guys came to Old Orchard Beach to do some rides?"
"Yeah, but I had to pee... And I'm done." he announced.
I stood him up, pulled up his shorts and got him into his chair. We exited the men's room and the mother effusively thanked me for the help. As I turned to leave the short, round woman pointed a finger at me.
"Thank was really nice." she declared. "Next time, you come see me, because, from now on in OOB, you pee for free."
Who has more fun than people...
We moved into an oceanside condo in Old Orchard Beach (OOB) on May 1st and, for the most part, we have revelled in the experience. The morning sunrise views from our bedroom, the beach walks, the family time boogie boarding in the surprisingly warm ocean have been glorious.
It was a hot July day when Connie and I walked the 2 miles down the beach to the Pier, through the hoard of French Canadians with their colorful beach umbrellas and their skimpy speedo suits. It was something we did regularly and enjoyed thoroughly.
On this particular day Connie wanted to sit among the tourists and eat some pier fries followed by some tee shirt shopping for the grandsons. While she shopped, I headed to the public bathroom. When I was a teenager cruising the Pier for hot French girls, it cost 10 cents to use the pissery. Times change...
The short, round, frizzy haired, 50's something woman sat on a stool behind the counter.
"50 cents," she demanded.
"Sure." I acquiesced. "I remember when it was a dime."
"You're fucking old," she said with a chuckle.
The facility was much as I remembered, especially the odor of stale urine and the rusted, gray stalls. After getting my 50 cents worth, I headed back through the entrance, which was blocked by a mother and a young man in a wheelchair.
The mother said, "But I need a handicap stall."
The round woman replied, "There is a handicapped stall in the men's room."
The mother was perplexed.
"Can I help you," I asked.
The young man looked up and grinned giving his unspoken permission. "Thank you so much," the mother agreed.
I wheeled the 15 year old, severely muscular distrophied young man into the handicap stall. I helped him stand, pulled down his shorts and pivoted him onto the hopper. He looked up and grinned.
"What's your name, buddy?" I asked.
"Timmy."
"And where do you live?"
"Spring Street." he smiled.
Sweet kid. "What town?" I asked.
"Norway."
"So you guys came to Old Orchard Beach to do some rides?"
"Yeah, but I had to pee... And I'm done." he announced.
I stood him up, pulled up his shorts and got him into his chair. We exited the men's room and the mother effusively thanked me for the help. As I turned to leave the short, round woman pointed a finger at me.
"Thank was really nice." she declared. "Next time, you come see me, because, from now on in OOB, you pee for free."
Who has more fun than people...
