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Silent Opposition

Posted Jul 29, 2008 by Geoff Fox

Updated Dec 31, 2008 at 01:30 PM

I was on vacation, scribbling on a notepad while leaning on a first-floor railing above an odorless Dumpster.

It was after 2 a.m.

Yes, I was bored.

Equally bored was the security guard who apparently had been watching me, from behind the Dumpster, as I scrawled and smoked a cheap stogie.

“Having trouble sleeping?” he said, suddenly.

I was startled by his presence and irritated by his tone, which, I figured, was meant to startle.

Besides, the question was rhetorical and what’s more annoying than that?

I asked if I was writing too loudly or if the smoke was offensive.

He said no.

I asked if his job was boring.

“I like boring,” he said.

What do you say to that?

Not knowing, I blinked at him.

He soon returned to his camping chair in the parking garage. It was between an SUV with Ohio plates and double doors leading to the elevators.

I know, because I later spied on him out of spite.

Again: bored.

Last week’s vacation wasn’t all boring, though. My mom, who is in PR and makes more money than I ever will, had rented a condo on Indian Rocks Beach. It was surrounded by lush trees bearing large coconuts, the kind that could result in a concussion, or at least a large knot, if one fell on your head.

There was the sound of consistently crashing waves on a nearby beach and the emotionally stabilizing smell of salty Gulf air. Out front, an occasional motorcycle roared by on a road otherwise populated by tourist-mobiles.

Rhymes With Pain

Like most kids, Thing 1 and Thing 2 dug the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies, and there just happened to be a two-hour pirate-ship-type tour nearby.

On board, young women wore Hollywood-style sea-wench attire, poured free booze for the adults, put cardboard pirate hats on the kids and engaged them in stories and squirt-gun fights.

No, the wenches weren’t wearing white.

Most of the kids good-naturedly battled with their squirt guns. By good-naturedly, I mean Things 1 and 2 stood toe to toe and emptied their pistols into each other’s face and head. Then they reloaded and did the same thing to kids they didn’t know.

It was good to see them making friends.

Some of the adults, like Ironhead, were knee-deep in the kid-fun, which eventually involved a limbo contest. I migrated toward the top deck, where a “captain” in pirate garb steered the vessel.

Except to tell people not to obstruct his view, the captain wasn’t talkative.

The guy next to him was, though.

The man had apparently taken advantage of not only the free drinks on board, but also his ability to imbibe beforehand. His name rhymed with “Pain,” which I was able to discern only after realizing that his adhesive name tag had been applied upside down.

At one point, our drunken hero, who had authentic-looking pirate-like facial hair, was plainly irritated that he wasn’t allowed to smoke a cigar on board, but mostly he was oddly entertaining – in a keep-the-kids-away-from-him kinda way.

He asked the captain if he was a black belt.

“No,” the captain said. “This is just a costume.”

Dumbstruck, our hero frowned.

Finally, he said, “I’m not, either.”

When two hours was up, I regretted not instigating my own conversation with Rhymes-With-Pain, who might have been just as comfortable as a character in a Steinbeck novel, perhaps living among Mack and the boys in “Cannery Row.”

125 mph

At some point during the week, Ironhead, who took the photo below, reiterated her theory that not enough oxygen gets to my brain.

Frankly, I forget the latest context, but it might as well go here: a brief discussion of the Suncoast Seabird Sanctuary, which treats birds usually injured in some way by humans. Located in Indian Shores, the sanctuary, which accepts donations, is home to hundreds of pelicans, spoonbills, owls, blue jays, an indigo bunting, herons, wood storks, egrets and ducks, among others.

Not surprisingly, Iron, wise as she is, liked the owls best.

Thing 2 marveled at the blue jays.

Thing 1, who “helps” squirrels by breaking acorns for them, smashed ants throughout.

My mom seemed to enjoy watching the kids enjoy everything.

I was drawn to the red-tailed hawks.

For starters, they look bad, as in tough, and according to the information attached to their cage, they are. Most impressive to me is that they can reach speeds of 125 mph as they dive toward their prey, often insects, rabbits, rodents, fish, snakes and other birds.

Plus, you’ve never seen a red-tailed hawk wearing glasses.

Fashion Maven

While on vacation – or anywhere, really – it’s almost impossible not to notice what other people are wearing.

As the worst-dressed reporter in the Tampa Bay area, I really can’t speak critically of anyone else’s sartorial sensibilities.

I’ll say this, though: If you, or anyone you know, ever sees me wearing plaid shorts – of any color combination – please take a swing at my face.

I’m not saying I’ll just let you hit me, or that I won’t try to hit you back.

But use a blunt instrument if you wish, or attack silently from behind.

I’ll deserve it.

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