Miles Away From Ordinary

Saturday evening, I was in a hot tub staring out at the beachfront.

The boys and I had pooled together for a weekend trip down to South Padre Island, renting a townhouse on the beach. We'd be spending a third of our weekend driving, and two thirds drunk.

The beachhouse was decked with a patio pool and hot tub.

I held a Cape Codder in one hand hanging over the ledge of the tub. It's funny how the view of a beach can make it okay to hold a bitch drink. I'd been drunk since 8:00 a.m. and was about halfway through what would eventually be a twenty-four hour maintained buzz.

"Whaddya think a place like this costs you," Tinman sighed. He was hanging on the edge of the pool, sipping on a Pina Colada.

"Bet it's about half a mil," Weaver replied. His drink was a Corona.

"On the beach!" Tinman scoffed, "You're shittin' me, I bet this place is at least a mil."

"Probably not down here in Padre," I chimed in, "But I'll meet you halfway. I'd say this'll set you back seven hundred commas."

The house was two-storeyed with four bedrooms, two kings, a sixty-inch in the living room and a thirty-seven in each bedroom. A balcony and a patio overviewing the island beachfront. Needless to say, much nicer than the homes any of us were living in.

The guy who owned the place was a cat named Gary from Oregon. He bought the place as a vacation home to windsurf in the late Spring and early Autumn, and rents out to guests the rest of the year. I learned all this from the letter he leaves out on the dining table.

"Must be nice..." Weaver commented.

"Hey, it's not like we couldn't have a place like this," I threw it out there.

"Yeah, bullshit," Tinman scoffed again, "You think you're gonna get a place like this."

"I didn't say I will. I said we could. We threw together money for this place for a weekend. Save up a few years, we could throw together money for a place like this to own."

"Right, like I'm gonna save up to live with you guys."

"Hey, we're doing all right, it's a good weekend. Why not? You know what they say: if it ain't broke..."

I was talking out of my ass, of course. They say the quickest way to hate someone is to live with them. I'd probably hate these guys to high hell if I had to live another day with them. Besides, there were eight dudes spending the weekend together in the house. Reminded me of Project Hollywood.

Big Ben and Tinman had set up a volleyball net early in the morning in front of our patio where we played a couple of matches earlier in the day. After everyone had dove around and swallowed their share of sand, we resigned to the pool and hot tub and watched girls wander up from the beach to play.

We shooed the dudes and little kids away, but acceded to chicks playing on our net. One of the groups of girls approached our patio to thank us for the net and complimented the house. We could've so easily invited them in.

But we were on vacation. And all the best things in life are temporary, be it a beach house or skimpily-clad chicks jumping around after a ball.

I swirled my Cape Codder and took a sip. Through the bottom of the glass, I could see a Corona bottle in the front of a sandy beach backdrop.