We were actually out of there by about 11:30, and we stopped at Dunkin' Donuts, where I ordered a bagel with cream cheese, and a small coffee, which came to $3.65. I handed the guy a five, and before I remembered I had change in my pocket, he keyed that in.
"Let me give you the 65 cents," I said, and he gave me two looks that could kill—the first one when I said let me give you the change, and an even more sinister one when I handed him three quarters. It was definitely one of those deer-in-the-headlights looks that intimated, "Really? Really?? You expect me to be able to add and subtract in my head?"
He was absolutely frozen, and the line was long, and I thought, "Should I say, 'You owe me $2.10,' or will he be insulted?"
In retrospect, I so should have said it, because in the long run, it's probably slightly better to be insulted than to look stupid. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, which I think he was going to try and use as a calculator, but then he grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and scribbled on it, presumably doing some long-hand mathematics. I was relieved when he solved for the same x that I had, and handed me $2.10.
In anticipation of the typical Wrightsville Beach parking nightmare that it invariably is, Joe and I talked about different options we might consider if we come back later in the summer—one being bringing our bikes down for the weekend, and riding our bikes from either the hotel to the beach, or from a shopping area parking lot just on the land side of the bridge, and riding our bikes over the bridge and onto the beach side.
However, all of the dads must have been at Father's Day brunch or something, because not only did we get a spot as soon as we pulled into the public access parking area, we got the first spot after the handicap parking ended, so right up front.
We paid for two hours of parking, being totally clueless that within an hour our towel and blanket, our iPods and cell phones, and a good part of our bodies would be covered with sand from the whipping wind.
Here I am an hour later, having the time of my life—trying to block the sun, the wind, and the sand from wreaking further havoc:
Fun times. You know you're jealous.
After an hour, instead of the two we'd paid for, we were on the road back to Raleigh, which was an uneventful trip.
Back at home, I got yet one more meal out of our leftover pizza and Stromboli from yesterday's lunch, and then I took a nap for about an hour-and-a-half.
On my way to Jen's, I called my dad for Father's Day, and he was already in bed. Mom was at bingo.
Jen and I watched two episodes of Glee, and we shared a box of tissues during the Furt episode even though we'd both already seen, but which triggered different thoughts and emotions in each of us that manifested themselves as tears.
I finally got to meet Nala—such an adorable and preciously loving little pooch and whose company I thoroughly enjoyed. Thanks for everything, Jen!
From there, I dropped by scareyoke at Flex, where I hung out with Swin most of the time. In addition to listening to the singers, we played one game of free pool together, and would probably have played another, but someone put their name on the board to play "next," and neither of us wanted to play someone we didn't know, so we just gave up the table.
Chris and his friend Rich were there, and when I said hello to them, I remembered having met Rich before. Chris bought me a cocktail at one point, and I want to remember to return the favor the next time I see him out, which shouldn't be very long with the frequency at which we both—well, frequent—the place.
This was the first time, in I don't know how long, that I didn't feel like I needed to do some work on a Sunday night, and I was grateful for that.