Summertime Beach Bingo

by Jeff Irvan | Special to The Current

It’s 6:45 a.m. on a summertime Saturday as I spray silicone on Crusty Rusty’s chain. I’m excited for this particular day because it’s change-over day in the heart of the high rental season. With my bingo card ready, I head towards The Washout to start my two-and-a-half-mile journey to Pirate’s Cove to play pickleball.
I need only pass two houses before I catch my first bingo square – dad on a janky step-stool reaching across the impossibly large SUV roof to strap down a turtle. A glance the other direction hits again with Mom and kids on their way back from the beach after taking the last-morning sunrise pictures. I will no doubt see the pictures in my I Love Folly Facebook feed later today. The haggard looks and glowing red skin provide clear evidence of a week of fun. I give them a wave as I cruise by and my smile widens as their expressions change upon realizing I live here and don’t have to leave today.

I’m about halfway to the Washout when I strike gold. My all time favorite square. An entire family in the driveway alternating glances at the car and the pile of luggage, boogie boards, coolers, chairs and whatever else they thought was essential 7 days ago, all thinking the same thing – how did this ever fit in our car? Are Mom and Dad some sort of Tetris savants? Is now a bad time to tell them we only wore 10% of the clothes we brought and the house already had 2 Keurig machines?

The Washout itself brings in a two-fer. Two families, each with coordinated outfits, taking pictures on the beach for their 2022 holiday cards. The cars are packed and this is their last stop before heading back to the Midwest. One dad is smiling coyly at the juxtaposition of Santa hats at the beach. A professional photographer was assisting one family while the other appears to have rousted that surfer who definitely lives in his van.
I’m being passed now by a steady convoy of out-of-state plates and I think about the correlation between time-of-departure and distance-to-drive. My last square for the morning comes just two blocks shy of the courts where I observe four generations of family members embracing as ‘goodbyes’ are said and cars pull out one-by-one (after great debate it was determined three generations is ordinary and four is bingo-worthy).
After a sweaty two-and-a-half hours of pickleball, I spent the rest of the day ticking off the minutes until the afternoon round.

Around 4 p.m., with Gin and Tonics in hand, we head to the porch where we can keep an eye on four rental houses. I’m hoping at least one of them produces the final square I need. We needn’t wait long for the action to begin. Yellow House pulls in first. Looks like three generations and it isn’t their first rodeo. Bags and beach accessories are freed one by one from their meticulously assigned spots (I make a mental note to watch them repack next Saturday as I have a sneaking suspicion…).

Blue house is next to arrive. The kids have the doors open before the car stops. They run towards the beach leaving a trail of shirts and shoes and they are in the water before Dad even turns off the car. I am suddenly jolted when my wife shouts “Bingo! “Darn it, she beat me again this week.

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