Sunday, August 02, 2009

Cell Phones Don't Know How To Swim

And other assorted short stories to amaze and amuse you

It was our 22nd wedding anniversary on Saturday. (Thank you, thank you) and we had originally planned to go away on Friday and come back Saturday night, but we had to buy new tires and pay more dental, doctor and grocery bills so we decided to be prudent and stay home.

And by 'home' we meant spend the entire day at Lake Washington. Lance dropped me off there at 7:30 in the morning so we could get the primo spot in the shade, right next to the water and with a picnic table.

P R I M O.

So as I sat there holding our spot, I cut up mushrooms and peppers and onions for the kabobs we were planning on having later in the day. Then I read for a while. It was lovely and quiet and the lake was calm.

But not for long. You see, it's Seafair weekend and the entire population of Washington state took to their boats and other assorted watercraft. Soon the water was choppy and it was LOUD. I mean loud. Then a multi-generational Filipino family arrived to take the table right behind us and things went from bad to worse.

My sister and her children joined us and we swam. We ate. We picked blackberries. We ate some more and we swam some more. During the entire time we were there, the family behind us (numbering in the forties or fifties) continually walked through our site, stomping on our towels, and getting us wet. Now, I certainly understand cultural differencs, but this was plain rude on SOOOOO many levels.

We rearranged our chairs to make it more difficult for them to stomp through. It didn't work. They continued to do so, children as well as adults. Rude rude rude.

At one point doing all of this, I went to go swim with Lance again and forgot that my cell phone was with me. Splish splash, it took a major bath.

Perhaps the frustration of destroying my phone pushed me over the edge, or it could have been the last time one of the women walked OVER our tarp with our air mattress on it with her dirty muddy feet. I'd had it.

I turned to them and in Spanish I loudly told them how upset I was and how RUDE they were and that they'd better STOP walking through and ON our stuff.

It's amazing how silent fifty people can get when they are yelled at.

And so....for now. My phone is dead. I've lost everyone's phone number. This means...if you're reading this and you and I talk? You should email me your numbers again.

And please...for the love of all that's holy, Don't Walk Through My Stuff!!!!

Thank you.


  1. Sorry about the phone.

    Yelling reprimands in Spanish? That would have been fun to watch.

  2. It was fun AND cathartic to do. And they soooo totally deserved it.


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