Joe got there before I did, and warned me outside before I went in, "Be prepared to be reprimanded by Bill. He said to me, 'I'm just telling everyone this, this morning, so don't take it personally. I found an empty bottle of wine, and an empty bottle of Corona out at the pool this morning. There's to be no glass at the pool.'"
I went inside to get my coffee, bagel, and cheese danish, but Bill didn't say his line to me. Perhaps he figured Joe would tell me.
"Jack and Larry" joined us for breakfast -- a couple, Jack with shocking gray hair, Larry with, probably colored blond, but did appear younger than Jack. They both proceeded to put chunks of butter on top of their cream cheese danish. And neither of them was fat. Bastards.
They both lit up after that, and appeared oblivious to the fact that each of their cigarettes trails of smoke led to mine and Joe's nostrils respectively.
Jack went on and on about traveling, and how he first started coming down to Ft. Lauderdale shortly after he got divorced, blah, blah, blah.
He makes some clucking noises when he speaks. I didn't notice this at first. Joe pointed it out to me later, and I was to notice it from then on. Larry tried to get a word in edgewise, but only managed a few times without Jack talking over him.
Jack, as it turned out, in addition to yammering and clucking, had the most annoying habit of rubbing his dick the entire time he was in the pool having a conversation with anyone who would listen. Being naked, it was most distracting. He was totally shaved down there, in case you need more of a visual. We live with the memories. But I digress.
After breakfast, we packed up and walked down to the "gay beach," which was about a four-block walk. It's "Sebastian Beach," which is right at Sebastian Street, which is the street on which the Casablanca Cafe was at which we had lunch yesterday.
We took a spot on the beach, and within 20 minutes we were absolutely sweltering. The heat was just oppressive, so we decided to go into the ocean.
The sand was so hot that the bottoms of our feet were totally burned before we were halfway to the water. I had to run the last 20 or so feet. I half-expected steam to come off the bottom of my feet when I stepped into the water.
The water was crystal clear, even way out, and the temperature was just nice. Not so cold to have a "shrivel factor," but cool enough to be refreshing. We stayed out there quite a while, and during that time both of us learned something about floating.
I learned that if I just floated on top of the water with my eyes closed, that eventually, and pretty quickly actually, my body would turn to be perpendicular with the shoreline. I would start off parallel to it, and with my eyes closed could actually feel myself turning, and sense when I had turned a quarter turn.
Joe discovered that if he held his breath, he would float a lot better. He was so tickled with this, and kept practicing it.
Afraid that we were getting sunburned in and through the water, we got out, and though it was better walking back to our towels, our feet were still so burning by the time we got to our towels, that I stepped into my sandals, and Joe stepped on his towel.
There was a guy on the beach, up and to the left of us, who had a parrot with him on a perch. Joe called it an "African gray red-tailed," though admitted he wasn't sure it wasn't "African red-tailed gray." You get the gist. It was gray with a red tail already.
It was really too hot to stay much longer, so we packed up, and walked over to the shower. In the meantime, the parrot owner had taken the parrot to the shower, and was sitting under it with him. When he put the water on, and it sprayed both of them, the bird starting flapping its wings a little, and he (the man) said, "Stop it. Stop it," and it did.
We decided to eat lunch, and eat again at the Casablanca Cafe since it was right there, and we weren't sure if there were other places at which to stop on the way back to the guest house. We passed on the 2-for-1 "special" today, but actually weren't sure if they were even offering it, since it was the weekend.
I had the fish and chips, and Joe had a hamburger. He cut the burger in half, and gave me half. I gave him half of my fish and chips. The tarter sauce for the fish and chips was out of this world to me. We both got fries with our meals, so didn't split those, though mine were the thick steak fries, and his were regular cut fries. We drank a lot of water there to rehydrate.
Back at the guest house, it was quite peaceful, so Joe and I got in the pool at about 2:30. At about 3:00, I took my swim suit off. We stayed in the pool until about 6:30! And, pretty much up until happy hour at 5:00, we were the only ones out there.
Todd did eventually come out, but he kept his swim suit on and stayed on the side of the pool, not coming in. Thank goodness.
He was pretty subdued today, and not surprisingly, didn't remember a lot about last night, or yesterday at all for that matter, including our names.
After happy hour, we took an hour or so nap, and then met to leave for dinner and Manhattan South. On the way, We stopped at Arby's for dinner, where Joe had a "Market Fresh Sandwich" and I had a "BLT Wrap." Joe had curly fries, I had homestyle fries, and we each had a drink.
We got to Manhattan South at around 9:00, and Joe was once again generous to hang out there while I danced a few dances. Joey was there again, and said hello to us. I did a shadow dance with him again, with him leading.
They did the Mambo Shuffle to a song called "Sex on the Beach," but did it with only one forward-and-backward and side-to-side moves at the beginning of the dance where you usually do two of each. Actually, I'm not sure if that was the name of the song, but that phrase was in it over and over.
Not too long after that, we danced to Backstreet Attitude, which I loved doing, in spite of my shoelace being untied and "flapping about" the entire time I was doing it.
They had a few dances called "Crossfire Dances," where the guys who had performed earlier, (Is it the Prairie Dogs? Something like that.) would start off dancing (mostly two-stepping, some shadow dancing) and for a donation (a buck or two), you could "cut in," and dance with them. I didn't participate in that, but thought it was a good fund raising activity.
Other dances I did included the Barn Dance, which I started with Joey, and a two-step with a guy named Andy, who I had seen last night dancing the lead. I wanted to dance at least once dance as a follow.
That turned out to be the best dance of both days. He was such a good lead, and we danced about the room in one of those "scenes" in which it feels like the whole room is spinning, but in a good way.
We left there at about midnight, and went to a bar called "The Cubby Hole." It turned out to not have much "cubby" about. Just a hole.
We asked the guy outside if he could recommend another place, and he named three bars that were "after hours" bars, meaning they were going to serve alcohol until 4:00 instead of 2:00.
We made a quick stop at a place called "Bill's Filling Station," where we learned that they are having a $5 Beer Bust on Sunday evenings.
After just a little while there, we drove back to the guest house. We rode with the top down on the way back, which was cool, although it was still very warm outside.
Back home, it was quiet and peaceful at the pool, with only one body lying beside it, which turned out to be Todd. Joe and I changed, and met in the pool, where Todd proceeded to join us, and bitch about Rick. It was now about 1:00 or 1:30 in the morning, mind you.
Todd said, "I don't know what happened to Rick. He said that he had to run home to take care of something, and then he'd be back, and we could go out to dinner and then to The Colesium." (The Colesium is the biggest bar here, and "the place to be" on Saturday night, evidently. It is also one of the "after hours" bars.)
Todd continued, "I said to him, 'So, how long will you be gone then, a couple of hours?' And Rick said, 'Oh no, it takes me about an hour just to get to my brother's.'" (He lives with his brother, and that's where he was going.)
Todd droned on with this story, "Then I said to Rick, 'Okay, so, you'll be back around 9:00 then,' and he said, 'Yes.'"
Getting angrier now, Todd went on, "Well, it's 1:30 now, and I haven't heard from him. I ate a fucking bagel for dinner. It's not like he doesn't know the number here; he works here. And it's not like he doesn't know my room number here; he's spent the last two nights in it. And even if he didn't remember it, he could ask for any fucking room, and ask someone to tell me what's going on."
By this time, Joe and I were pretty tired of hearing about this pitiful little love spat between the "lovers" of three whole days.
I couldn't take much more of the bitterness, and said my goodnights right at about 2:00. Joe hung out.
I was sure I would hear some stories in the morning.