Pineapple Express
By Mark D. Crantz
I watched from my monastery window as Laguna Beach was hit with the Pineapple Express. It was raining cats and dogs as an Animal Control Officer tried to stop residents from throwing their dogs high in the air in an attempt to avoid those off-leash citations. (No animals were hurt during the writing of this column.)
Residing high up in a mountain monastery has its advantages. I’m above the weather to give me time to ponder what happens next. So ready yourselves, Lagunans, for the next express to hit. It’s called the Watermelon Express, and it’s a doozy. Watermelons, on average, weigh three times more than a pineapple. Seedless watermelons slightly less. In either case, borrow your children’s bike helmets to protect your noggins first. Once your helmet is securely fastened, tell your child there are no more helmets left and to run fast and dodge like there’s no tomorrow. The National Safety Administration reports that children are hard-headed and never listen to parental advice. Children are naturally immune to falling watermelons.
After the Watermelon Express, families are advised that the next storm coming is called the Fruit Cup Express. It is made up of kiwi, cantaloupe, bananas, oranges, apples and tomatoes. Yes, readers, I said tomatoes. They’re a fruit, not a vegetable, and they make the worst mess of all the fruits when they hit you from 30,000 feet. Of course, do not panic because you’ve survived falling blue ice and airplane door plugs for years.
The day after these fruit weather expresses, Lagunans will notice a sea of color sprouting up on the landscape. Suddenly, the hillsides are brimming with shades of blue, yellow, green and red. Mistaken for wildflowers, these sightings are actually the tarps and plastic sheets covering the innumerable leaks that have sprung up in residential homes. This time of year is called the American Express. It always follows the other expresses. Call roofers and restoration specialists. They are experts in drying out your wallet of those moldy greenbacks and returning them dry and spendable to their wallets.
During the American Express period, residents realized just how much their views were costing them. It dawns on families that unspoiled views require flat roofs so the neighbors behind you do not get their views obstructed. The American Express starts at the beach and rolls ups like thunder to the top of the world, whereby the last homeowner says, “Why did I go with a flat roof? There’s nobody behind me.”
Residents say the views are worth the pain of the American Express. They believe their property insurance will come to save them from financial devastation. Days, then months, and some years later, they will learn that the fine print of their homeowner’s policies excludes the five elements: Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Space.
The coverage is denied. Residents are stuck with the final major Express. The Pony-Up Express.
Crantz tells the Indy that he had a leak in his living room. A bit more than a leak. It was a waterfall. He decided not to fix it but market the home later with an inside water feature, dubbed after a Frank Lloyd Wright creation, “Falling Waters-West Coast.”
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