Beach Day

“I think it’s the same three girls.”

“Can’t be.”

“I think it is.  Red hair, brown hair, blonde – tall, thin, chubby all three in jean shorts and bikini tops.”

“And they all just sit there year in and year out?”

“Maybe the city pays them?  Like inviting people to come here.  I’ve heard of bars hiring girls to hang around so men will be attracted.”

“I think it’s just a nice place to sit and watch the world go by.  I guess it could be the same girls if they live around here but I doubt it.  You gonna stop for coffee?”

“Sure,” I pull the car around the next corner and slow to about ten miles an hour on the narrow asphalt path allowed between horizontal parked cars.  Watching for an empty space or someone about to pull out of a space.  “This place has been in too many movies.  People come here from all over the world now.  It doesn’t matter if it’s foggy or raining, it’s always crowded.”

“When you plan for a year and fly across an ocean you’re going to go home with a tan even if you have to paint it on.  See that red and white mini up there?  I think it’s about to leave.  Wait here and see.”

“I hate it when people do that.”

“If you start doing it you’ll have to re-think that won’t you?”  

I slow to a stop in the middle of the narrow road.  The guy behind me honks but the Cooper starts to back out.  We slip in as soon as he clears the space.

“There’s even an hour on the meter.”

“It’s like a sign.”