Thursday, October 18, 2012
Classic Margaritaville Mishap
No, the blender isn't on the fritz. But I did blow out a flip-flop just as I got to the sand today. Not a problem for the beach walk, but of some concern once the walk on the sand drew to a close. I hate going barefoot on the street. If there's a shard of glass to be found, it's a pretty sure thing I'll be the one who ends up bleeding. Maybe the little antique shop that also sells souvenir shells and t-shirts would have some flip-flops. Maybe the proprietress would let me have a pair on credit because just a couple of weeks ago I purchased a vintage napkin holder shaped like a bunch of bananas. Or maybe the salon across the street would give me a pair of those flimsy pedicure sandals. And hey, maybe that pair of socks was still lying in the sand.
Some weeks ago I noticed a neatly arranged pile of belongings stacked where street meets sand exactly where I begin my beach walk nearly every morning. A pair of navy athletic shorts, a pair of dark socks, and some sunglasses. The sunglasses looked expensive. Weird how people lose track of their stuff on the beach, I thought, remembering how during the summer I noticed that it seemed to be a local practice to place found shoes with the toes rammed into the sand and their heels upward. Presumably the lost footwear would be easier to find if/when the owner came back to look for them. Monday mornings in August, it looked like "Shoehenge"on the more popular stretches of sand. But no one came back for the pile of stuff on "my" beach. After about a week I noticed the sunglasses had finally tempted someone. But the next morning the sunglasses were back on top of the pile--wrapped neatly in paper towel with a rubber band securing the package. A couple of weeks later the sunglasses really did disappear, but the shorts and the socks remained, unfolded now, looking more and more like litter than lost belongings.
If the socks were still there, I'd abandon what little fashion sense I have left, I decided, and wear them for my walk back to my car, which was parked in the gym parking lot. If the socks weren't there, well I'd find out just how friendly and trusting the local merchants were.
The socks weren't there. But next to the half-buried navy shorts was a pair flip-flops. Yup. I took 'em. I think, according to the Margaritaville code of ethics that's been taking shape in my head, I ought to return them. Tomorrow I'll take some cash with me for my beach walk and hope that I can buy some new flip-flops from the shop on the corner.
And incidentally, the flip-flops that suffered the blowout were these. I have to say I'm somewhat relieved that they are now in a beach trash can.