Dos Cowabunga

It was a pleasure to host two esteemed members of the Cowabunga Croquet Club recently. Miguel and Geraldo arrived with a croquet set and three longboards. We managed to play three days and surf a few days. Miguel was bummed that his favorite break wasn't optimal. Both Cowabungas also got to experience a rare Southern California event: rain.

The croquet setting is a sprawling lawn in the park adjacent to the beach,  palm tree surrounded with transients, homeless persons and surfers walking through offering comments. Miguel engaged an oddly dressed transient woman in a conversation about croquet and English manors and English history. Miguel also launched a shot which went into the parking lot possibly damaging a vehicle parked therein, although he did not admit nor deny the result.

Every morning circa 6 a.m., Geraldo brewed coffee and checked the surf. We managed late dawn patrol sessions without Miguel who was trapped in his walrus tent by hungry and tweaking mice. When he managed to hit the lineup, Miguel forged ties with two local curmudgeons, aggressive AARP types. Miguel got his share of waves. Geraldo and I also scored nice peelers in glassy conditions with gray skies which made identifying incoming waves difficult. Also, Geraldo taught Miguel how to do laundry at the laundromat next to Bubba Kahuna' food emporium.

On Friday night, adjacent campers decided to drink to much beer, stay up late and argue. Geraldo, trying to sleep in his van's rooftop hideaway, finally went ballistic and decided to intervene. He is, after all, a bona fide camp host here at the campground albeit in the fall. So, he charged the noisemakers' camp site with his flashlight at head height, so as to conceal that he wasn't wearing official camp host clothing. How do I know this is what happened? Well, I was standing at the defaulters campfire blinded by Geraldo's light while admonishing them to cheer down. Once Geraldo knew I was on the case, he retreated to the safety and comfort of his van. It was nice to have backup when having to restore order after midnight at a site full of drunks.

One benefit of hosting Miguel is the constant updates about sporting events. With his black transistor radio held up to his good ear, Miguel was the campsite Sports Center commentator. I miss the, "Warriors up three." Or, "the Pelicans are up by nineteen." Sitting by himself in a turquoise plastic chair deep in the shadows, Miguel would issue updates between scarfing shortbread cookies.

As the two Cowabungas departed in Geraldo's van today, I knew I had to concentrate on repairing my relationship with she-who-must-be-obeyed. So, we went to Home Depot. Upon returning, we ate Costco shrimp and quinoa salad with avocado at the wooden and recently bleached picnic table looking out at the tranquil ocean. Life is good, except for the mice which missed tormenting Miguel.