I’ll start with the first confession.
We are not on the coast.
We’re in Orlando.
That’s a lie and therefore another confession.
There will be many.
We’re actually in Kissimmee, not by the beach but at
a pool.
We’re having a good time when a security guard in a
blue suit with a badge storms passed followed by some squinty looking
“I-work-behind-the-desk-authority-figure”. They appear pissed!
Beside us are these four sixty something women in
bathing suits, drinking beers and talking. I can’t understand a damn thing
they’re saying but luckily Sarah speaks extreme “Northern” dialects and translates for me.
“So I stopped cooking for him. That got his sorry
ass out,” one said sipping on a beer.
“And that got him out?” said another silver haired
lady. “I thought that would have made him stay.”
“Bitch,” the first lady said.
While this was happening, Sarah’s youngest child
Cassidy is drowning in the pool so she jumps in to save her.
I’d miss it because I’m riveted by the conversation
and the security guard confrontation at the insistence of the man wearing dark
glasses, black socks and a pocket protector full of pens and notes. It made me
think of Jerry Rainy.
“Is that a beer?” the security guard demands.
“What in the hell else would it be?” she shoots back
taking a slug.
“You can’t have it here,” he tells her. “Home owner
rules.”
Now I never saw the destruction of Sodom and
Gomorrah, the dropping of the first nuclear bomb, a tsunami or Rush Limbaugh in
person but I imagine it was like this.
Four sixty something year old women from New York,
now in Orlando, Florida, wearing bathing suits and drinking beer while talking
about getting rid of their Ex’s … EXPLODED!!
Now I learned cussing while taking Hebrew in
Seminary like everybody else but let me tell you something. These ladies were spectacular!
Sarah had to translate many of the unknown Northern cuss words but let me tell
you something … damn these ladies were good!
The security guard has no gun so he runs. Jerry
Rainy had shot all of his ink so he flees too.
The women grab their cooler and chase them.
Laughing, I see that Cassidy is wet but otherwise
alright. Sarah seems a bit upset though I have no idea why.
I take another sip of wine from the Styrofoam and
felt bad.
It gets me thinking about Confession. I’ve done a
lot of bad things … broken tons of rules … apparently almost let Cassidy drown.
I should confess my sins.
THANK GOD I’m Southern Baptist!!!
You don’t have to confess shit as a Southern Baptist
Christian!
I try to explain it to Sarah but she doesn’t seem to
care.
So I keep my mouth shut and sip my wine.
I love religion.
