Sep 29, 2007

Wherein My Beach Attacks Me!

I just don't listen.

I thought all the talk about the Red Tide was because 'Bama was in town. Everywhere. In front of MY car. Slacking and yakking and driving pitifully because they don't know where their GPS is pointing to. They swerve and dodge the locals as they talk on their phones or argue with their navigator.

Anyway, my favorite weatherman at Fresh Bilge sent a warning flare my way about today. Wind and waves? I've seen 'em. High tides? I lived through Frances, thank you.

But just an hour ago, PepperDog and I went to Porpoise Point. Besides the fact that I couldn't open my car door against the nor'easter winds--seriously--the towering waves and whitecaps extended as far as I could see. The seaweed on the beach was knee-deep, and jagged troughs were cut into to shore making steep banks on an already steep beach.

We walked down anyway, happy to be outside. Hmmm....dead fish, aw, so pretty, too. Another, and another. Some folks were swimming, but Pepper and I trudged through sand that had lost all structural integrity, giving way beneath each step. We went maybe a quarter of a mile with the wind to our backs, near the shore so our skin wouldn't be flayed from our bones by the sand. We saw the local news photographer out there, taking pics of dead fishies.

"Stay out of the water," he offers. "Red Tide."

"Yeah, I see it's drifted south, then," I counter.

"Yes, and it's starting to hurt my eyes and nose," he says.

We decide to turn back, into the fury of the sunny windstorm of ocean moisture. Within two minutes both the dog and I are coughing and gagging from the salt and the Red Tide's influence. Weird. We sputter our way back to the car. Poor doggie dear has tears running from her eyes! I look in the mirror and see a real Ghost Story! I look no better. I'm still coughing, my lungs, eyes, and nose still burn.

Think I'll stay in for the rest of the week. Ack!

I console myself knowing that I have my own weather forecaster, who also happens to be an excellent writer. Thanks, Alan!


Jean said...

"swimming near dead fish is not recommended..."
I made a note of that one!

Let's hope this stuff doesn't last long. Hope your reaction is going away by now. ...and, poor puppy!

Joan of Argghh! said...

I took some Claritin D. It seems to help. I just remembered I have to tell Ghost Stories tonight, while the ghostly vehicle rolls along the bayfront, I'll try to talk without gagging. Yeehaw!

Erica said...

The actual bay part of Sheepshead Bay had a period about a month or so ago in which mass amounts of fish decided to commit mass fishocide and float up to the surface of the water. Tweren't too nice.

I don't suppose you know what a Coney Island Whitefish is, do you? Those aren't too nice, either.

Mizz E said...

I really feel for ya. I grew up on Galveston Island - lived through Carla.

Thanks for the link to Alan . . . a rare gem.

Erica said...

Could you please post something, dagnabbit, for the love of Gott? It's been two days already, and you must scritch your demanding fanbase.

It's Zeejus, isn't it? He's gotten to you somehow.

Joan of Argghh! said...

Don't know any Zeejus. Should I worry?

Just been busy with... stuff.

Erica said...

OK, something's different...something's...changed.

Whuh hoppened?

zeejus said...

Don't worry, Joan, at least I understand. I mean, you post on the internet for a while and then you get attacked by crazy beaches and you post a little less for a while. It's the way of the blogworld.

Hope to see you back at your regular posting schedule soon, though.

Joan of Argghh! said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
zonker said...

Amen, Joan. There has to be a better way than all of this corporate BS, no? I really don't have a particularly demanding job but it's all that I can do just to show up every day. I always feel so tired by the time I leave there. Numb. It sucks.

Well, off to work. Yay me. Or not.

Joan of Argghh! said...

Yay, you, Zonk!