fireman playing volleyball, or the benefits of going on vacation every once in a while
Friday, October 23, 2009 at 9:24PM 
I went away on vacation. I don't do this often. For one thing, I'd rather spend my disposable income on clothes. For another, I don't like to fly.
Make that "hate to fly." I find it terrifying. Once I get on the plane I am usually okay, but only because I've worn myself out after days in a state of weepy tension, envisioning my own demise. Yes, I know I'm being ridiculous. I know the plane ride is statistically safer than the cab ride to the airport. But the prospect of dropping 35,000 feet out of the sky is more alarming than any potential fender-bender on the Triborough Bridge. So, the statistic doesn't help.
Nor does the 4 a.m. wake-up time, the bleary robot shuffle through airport security (bare feet on cold floor, unpack laptop and place in bin, haul suitcase up and wrestle it onto conveyor belt). Nor does the bad airport coffee, the inhumane seating arrangements (good morning, sir, you don't know me, but for the next 6 1/2 hours I'll be sitting in your lap). Nor does the crush to get out of the plane; nor does the bus to the rental car, the rental car to the rented accommodations. By this point I'm cursing my decision to take a vacation, and questioning exactly why vacations are considered pleasurable and relaxing in the first place.
So, although I'm embarrassed to admit this, I rarely travel anywhere unless forced.
But I had to be in California on a weekend that coincided with the annual October get-together of my core group of former college sorority sisters. In recent years I haven't gone to our girls' weekend so often (see: Terrified of Flying, above), and I missed my friends. On the other hand, I also worried how, and whether, we'd get along. Over the years politics have become extremely important to me, and many of my sisters' views fall on the opposite end of the political spectrum. Our lives, too, have diverged; I live on the East Coast, most of them live on the West, and a couple live in the middle. I wondered if we would have anything in common.
Well, it turns out we did. In fact, all political and cultural differences vanished as we hung out together in Hermosa Beach in this beachfront cottage for three days, drank my friend Blythe's fizzy vodka lemonade, ate a lot of Mexican food, and relaxed while staring at the ocean. It turns out there's not much to be upset about in such circumstances.
Oh, and one more thing. On the first morning of our vacation, we awoke to find a group of Hermosa Beach firemen playing beach volleyball not twenty yards from our door. Yes, that's right: Firemen. Playing volleyball. I took this photo of them, which, though hardly reflecting the true gorgeous volleyball-playing fireman awesomeness of the scene, at least proves I'm not making this stuff up.
What could be more appealing to half a dozen vacationing sorority sisters?
I'm already looking forward to next year's vacation.
Reader Comments (1)
Zoom lens!!