Unfortunately, this is a true story…
When I fell off the lifeguard tower at midnight, the paramedic who’d put me up there in the first place couldn’t complain, really. He’d suggested the outing, and brought champagne, cheese, fruit and a blanket. He’d even remembered to provide a lovely starry night for ocean-gazing, boozing and necking. Not bad for a last minute Valentine’s date, I’d thought when we made the arrangements. Something different from the usual restaurant outing. “Sure, why not?†I’d said.
Why not? Well, I should have considered that it was winter in Southern California, which means all of the ladders for the lifeguard towers are gone. Therefore, the hot paramedic I’d met at a club had to boost me up onto the tower by pushing my big, round behind. Repeatedly.
Second, I have no head for champagne, my dears. And the hot paramedic had great taste in wine, so forgive me if I indulged a little more than usual. I indulged in more paramedic than I’d intended as well, so perhaps it was sudden caution that had me pulling back from a steamy kiss and launching ass over noggin into the cool, grainy sand. Face first.
Picture the hero or villain of this story, whichever you prefer, expertly flipping over the victim of a Valentine night’s foolishness. Then imagine a starfish with a face. A face full of sand. Yep, that was me. I coughed, spluttered, and wished I’d had the sense to stay home with a Hugh Jackman flick.
To my date’s credit, we got most of the sand out of my eyes, and he did spring for an early breakfast at Harbor House Café. Frankly I’m not sure how he managed to sit there next to me. I’m a cheerful drunk, but not particularly gifted at conversation in that condition. When I staggered to the ladies room after our meal, using all of the walls in the restaurant for support, I found that my ears, nose and hair were so full of sand that I looked like a villain from the Pirates of Caribbean sequel. Damn.
To my surprise, my date was still waiting for me when I returned from the ladies room. What a gentleman. Mr. Paramedic drove me and my crusty orifices home and then disappeared, never to call again. He’s probably still trying to get the sand out of his car.
At least Valentine’s Day will come again next year, I told myself. Next year I’d make reservations.
Brandy Stewart
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I always love your blogs, Brandy!
Wonderful story! Kudos for the paramedic for sticking it out, but jeers for not calling again.
LOL!!! This is the funniest story!!! I can see the whole thing!! Great job!
Kitty 🙂
I loved this!
Let’s just say you are not the only one to have fallen off a lifeguard tower that way.
Hope your Valentine’s was better the next year.
🙂 d
PS I love Harbor House too!