The last few weekends have been docile to say the least. My wife and I had become rather acquainted with our new couch and our legs had begun to atrophy as a result. This would not stand! We had to get out of town and do something fun, outdoors, and relatively cheap. After doing some Internet research on upcoming events and checking the travel fund, we decided that a trip to St Augustine was the way to go.
After leaving work on Friday, my wife and I quickly drove home to change and pack our things for our weekend voyage. It was a four hour drive to St Augustine that night, and we wanted to make it there with enough time left in the evening to meet up with Karl and take him out for some drinks. It turned out it was his birthday, so the consumption of alcoholic beverages was now less of a formality and more of a necessity.
Our drive was uneventful, but the act of meeting up with Karl turned into an adventure. As I previously mentioned, it was his birthday so he had already imbibed numerous alcoholic concoctions prior to our arrival. We were meeting him where he lived, yet we found ourselves giving him directions to where we were staying. It took about 30-45 minutes for him to find us in front of one of the biggest attractions on one of the most common used roads in all of St Augustine. While we waited, we saw numerous passersby, and listened in to their conversations as the passed us by. Most of them were of no consequence.
One couple, who had obviously been enjoying their vacation and were stumbling down the sidewalk in a zig-zag pattern as if they were evading a slow moving alligator (FYI, the zig-zag escape route from gators is about as nonsensical as the “play dead” bear tactic). They walked up to us, and asked if we were waiting for a cab. We told them we were not, and they went on their way. A few minutes later we saw them again. This time coming from the same direction as they did before. It seemed as though they were lost, and had simply looped around to end up at the same place they had just come from. St Augustine has one main road going through the tourist area (A1A aka Ponce De Leon Blvd). These tourists had somehow been able to thwart the simplicity of this city. The man was 100% American, but of obvious middle eastern descent. He had darker skin, wore a nice Polo shirt, spoke with no accent, and was wearing a pair of unscuffed white K-Swiss tennis shoes. The girl was tiny, and looked to be the type that would be high maintenance. She was a white girl with brown hair, and was dressed in an outfit a Kardashian would wear if they shopped at the outlet mall. A short flowing black dress, and those Roman-style sandals that have the straps that wrap around your legs up to the lower calf muscle. They recognized us as the couple they had just seen and asked about a taxi (unfortunately for them, they didn't recognize road signs, only strangers), but this time they just said “hi.”
They stopped to rest on a bench about ten diagonal paces from us (or 5 feet). Jessica and I stood our ground because we feared any change in location from the one we gave Karl may have been met with a delay in our being picked up and the future consumption of tasty libations. While Jessica blathered on about what kind of car Karl might drive, I listened in to the drunken duo's conversation.
In my left ear was Jessica saying “I don't know, he seems like a guy who would drive a mid-nineties brown Saab” (both an odd and very specific vision).
Through my right ear I could hear the woman complaining about the quality of their hotel room. “Yeah I know, we are only just sleeping in there, but it is gross.”
Left ear “Or maybe a Jeep Wrangler, I had one of those when I lived on Anna Maria Island.”
Right ear “It's just, I really wanted us to have a nice weekend. Just the two of us.”
Left ear “Wait a minute, what about one of those Scion things that looks like a toaster on wheels?”
Right ear “I can't get in the mood to have sex when there are stains everywhere.”
Left ear “I don't know, he probably drives an old VW Beetle or something.”
This time my right ear was picking up a male's voice. It was her boyfriend responding to her comments, but not her concerns. He said “What can I say, I love stains!” At the same moment that he exclaimed that last remark, Karl had pulled up to the curb and was waving us to quickly enter the Honda Element he was driving (Jessica was way off). We got in as quickly as we could. We fumbled with the odd manner in which the rear doors opened and tried not to hold up the cars that were quickly lining up behind us. After 15-20 seconds of futility, we had entered the vehicle and were on our way to the bar. The drive to the Cigar/Wine bar was less than five minutes. I took up most of those 300 seconds (give or take) pondering how the K-Swiss/Kardashian conversation continued. Was he able to overcome her need for clean linens with his need for sexual pleasure? If so, how would such a feat be produced? Was this man really a fan of soiled surroundings, or was this merely an attempt at humor?
I could hear him saying “Baby, I don't care if there are stains on the carpets, the blankets, AND the ceiling. We are going to have sex tonight!” The girl was appalled at the initial idea, but would only be further disgusted by the new visual.. Yet, he would continue trying to use humor to break the barriers of her disgust “It's our anniversary, we have to do it. I think it's a law or something.” In furthering his humorous attempts he would exclaim“C'mon baby, you said just last night that nothing could get between us. Now are you going to let a few stains break that oath?”
This would be the moment that would forever solidify their relationship and would become a story for her to tell for the rest of her life. Would the story be told about the creepy ex-boyfriend who had an unseemly fetish for stains, or would she tell her grandchildren about how love can overcome even the most disgusting surroundings?
I could just hear their grand kids asking “Gamm-ma, tell us again about you and Gamm-pa's trip to St Augustine.”
Gamm-ma would respond “Well, darling. Grandpa and Grandma K-Swiss were so in love that the stains on the sheets could not keep us apart. We were so in love that we romped and frolicked for hours in the bed of the Days Inn that night. In fact, that was the night your mommy was created.”
The thought of all this soiled coitus turned my stomach. It was either that or the double cheeseburger I ate before getting on the road that evening. I also thought back to why a man who seemed so well put together would stoop to such a tactic just to get his girlfriend to sleep with him that night. Then I remembered, he was a man. A man on vacation no less. A man on vacation who was so clearly inebriated that he would say anything to get his girlfriend into their stained bed that night. He would even go as far as to cry out the words “what can I say, I love stains.”