Bumbling in the Park
From the moment I wake I think about it. I put on my “Sunday Funday” shirt. Much time is spent planning, shopping and preparing the food. Around 12 p.m. I mentally run through the procedure of packing up and imagining the taking of my parking spot. I spend a lot of energy on this; the event starts at 5. After a short nap I hear the starting gun loudly in my head and hastily get to the park. Spot chosen. I zero in with the focus of a child opening Christmas presents. I intensely focus my actions and senses to set up our small area rug and table quickly. Next, the freshly ironed table cloth is unfurled and set. The table is topped with a small vase of flowers and equally small American Flag. Perfection. I take my seat pouring a crisply cool glass of chardonnay.
In summer, a resident is forced to hibernate in their homes. The beaches packed, restaurants full and congested streets make it hard to enjoy our hometown. Residents seem happy to share our town, with one exception. One of our fantastic parks holds an event weekly that is intended as a local’s only event. I love it. It’s an enclave where residents can be together outside, enjoying summer. I have loved it for years. It is on my calendar permanently. This park, this event and my enthusiasm for it are where it all starts to go wrong.
My heart stops momentarily. Still holding my chardonnay, I realize something is very wrong. There is a distinct absence of jovial music. There are no happy crowds or skipping children on the pathways with a Popsicle in hand. Shiatsu! It only took another second to realize the park was mostly empty. In my zest to get to the park I had arrived over an hour early from the already early time I was shooting for. I would have to wait a bit longer for my wife to arrive than I planned. Shrugging I continue to sip my wine and made a “note to self” not to be such an “antsy Nancy” and plan my planning more carefully. I took satisfaction that at least I arrived on the correct day. This is Bumble #1.
I remember it perfectly because it happened yesterday. Several hours have passed and the event is in full swing. The music is playing, people are dancing, sharing their wine and enjoying each other’s company. One of the things I like to do is to walk the perimeter of the park and survey who is here than find someone to chat up. I spy someone I have met a couple of times up ahead. I see Todd with his distinctive slicked back, blond hair. Knowing each other well enough, I pick up directly with a conversation we have had a previous time. Todd is attentive and engaged in the conversation. Sensing the opportunity, I tell a few newly memorized jokes and glance over to notice Todd’s wife with a particular sour look on her face. For the second time today my heart stops momentarily. Good grief. This is not Todd or his wife! Now what do I do? They don’t realize my moment of clarity, so I cleverly chat on and at the right moment say goodbye and hastily continue down the sidewalk seeking the refuge of my blankie. I know they think I am bananas. I am sure at that moment his wife must be leaning over to Faux Todd and asking who the heck was that? Embarrassed, I resist looking back. How did I get it so wrong? I am on a roller coaster of emotion. There is anger, and there is happiness and there is sadness and there is confusion. Above all, I’m confused.
Back at my blanket, I tell my wife Kathy and friends what just happened. In self-preservation I point across the crowd to Faux Todd and his wife so Kathy could help me ID him. Some part of me is hoping that maybe I panicked and exited that conversation for no reason. I shouldn’t have done that. The group is laughing at my bumble as Kathy confirms I had been openly talking at length to a complete stranger. I’m mortified. People at nearby blankets join the laughter. I saw a bald baby laughing at me.
Laguna Beach is great. Lagunanans are nice to everyone especially the interesting non-conventional characters in our town. Today, I am to be the odd Laguna character. Sunny sky above, we raised our glasses and a toast was made to something. Another perfect Sunday continued on.
Ciao for now.
Roderick Reed owns REEDesign Interiors in Laguna Beach. He lives in town with his wife Kathy and two sons Mason and Jack. http://roderickreed.com/.
