How to Awfulize the Father's Day Celebration - Part One

We decided to celebrate Father’s Day at the beach. Along with 1.6 million of other beach lovers. By the time we finally arrived, not only were all the free parking spots taken, but also all the metered ones.  We drove around for a while, eventually making it back to always dependable Ron Jon’s where we know we can park when everything else fails.

‘2 hour parking for paying customers only’ and ‘absolutely no beach goer parking’ signs greeted us at the entrance of the garage. I’ve never seen ‘no beach goer parking’ at Ron Jon’s before! It must be their Father's Day special. 

We eventually found a spot about 500 km inland, opted to leave the cooler, the shovel, the chairs and the beach umbrella in the trunk. We brought along the absolute essentials – three towels, two boogie boards, a Subway sandwich and a bottle of water.

I hope our car doesn’t get towed,  moaned Child Optimist #1.

… and if it doesn’t get towed, that we don’t get the ticket, accessorized Child Optimist #2. I grand-finalize their litany with select cheer-leading phrases of my own...

... and we don't get eaten by the sharks, stung by jelly-fish, drowned and sun-burnt at the same time, and then pooped on by those obnoxious, overfed seagulls.  

Eeee-ewww, Mom!! 

I smile and commend them for their encouraging glass-half-empty perspective and successfully awfulizing further our already awful Father's Day celebration. If Daddy was with us, he would be so proud.

At the beach, a yellow flag greets us announcing rough surf, dangerous currents and undertows. The mother's and the swimmer’s hell is, of course, the children's and the surfer’s heaven. Four hours of wild ocean happiness - colliding into people and objects, being pounded, skinned, bruised, tossed around like a rag doll and battered as well as catching some unbelievably awesome rides - later, we crawl back the 500 km where we left our car.

It was all worth it, Mom … A pause. ... as long as our car didn’t get towed and impounded…

… and we don’t get the ticket. 

The car didn’t get towed and there was no ticket. At least not yet.  

Feeling buoyed by our little adventure – we made it alive after all - against my better judgment I follow the GPS directions and take an exit before the one we normally do.  Down the exit ramp there is a small unmanned toll plaza collecting 50-cent toll.  I throw two quarters into the bucket and inch slowly forward, waiting for the red "pay toll" light to turn "paid toll[' green.

Well, it doesn't.