Imperfect

Ocean City was not cooperative. It rained the first day and night. On Sunday, the wind was so strong, it felt like you were going to be lifted off your feet. We saw not one single sole on the beach. The sand hurt too much. They also cancelled "Springfest." It was just that bad.

At 7:55pm on Saturday night, a nice man handed Pele and I tickets the Davy Jones concert at 8. We decided we'd go--free tickets! But instead of heading straight to the concert, we got a bite to eat. I was reasonably sure that Davy Jones was in the Monkees. I find that music inoffensive, occasionally pleasant but mostly boring.

We got the concert about 45 minutes in and it was awful. Pele said that the music was simple and easy to listen to and agree with me that the singer had no voice. But we both felt guilty for feeling any disdain because the audience was so clearly into it. We left when the set ended.

Turns out, we didn't see Davy Jones at all, but a much worse similar era act. Oh well. While I suspect Davy is a better performer, I still wouldn't have liked the music very much.

After the concert, we went to The Cork Bar, which was full of regulars, had fire helmets on the walls and signed one-dollar bills pasted to the ceiling. We drank two-dollar, draft Budweiser from frosty mugs. We played shuffleboard bowling (which I'm much better at than regular bowling) and darts. Around 11pm, we decided to leave.

We walked along the boardwalk and passed The Purple Moose Saloon. We considered going in--a band was playing and there was no cover. I said, "The night is young!" And we went in. The band, a cover band, was great. The lead singer was a little scary looking, but she was fantastic--charismatic with a flexible growl of a voice. Her band, complete with horns, was tight and fun. They played mostly funk and it was anything but boring. Pele observed that they improved most of the songs they covered. I agreed.

The best thing about the bar was the diversity of the crowd. Every age, sex and race was represented. And they all danced! It was hilarious and touching and encouraging. It was a mighty fine time.

We rolled home after midnight (how late was it?) and laughed uncontrollably on the boardwalk. A teenage group, looking like they'd just left the prom, passed us. The girls in long party dresses, most of their shoulder's draped with the boys' jackets.

A police car drove down the center of the boardwalk and seemed to almost run into a couple of older women we'd seen in the Purple Moose. I said, "Hey, don't hurt the old crippled lady!"

Pele said, when she stopped laughing, "You're going to hell!"

I said, "What? She's crippled! And old." No, it wasn't nice.

Next, we ran into a group of four women from the Purple Moose. Two of their party collapsed on the ground as we approached. Pele admired the purple foam antlers one of them wore. The woman with the antlers covered them when she heard Pele and quietly said, "Mine." Her friend hid her face and said, "I'm invisible." I believe she was hiding from the cops. We laughed and laughed. We kept walking and each time I looked back, the two young women were still on the ground.

Sleep came easy. Sunday was windy beyond reason so we stuck to mostly indoor pursuits: the haunted house, the arcade (dance off!), and lunch. Then a quick and easy drive home.

Ocean City, it turns out you didn't let me down at all. See you next year.

Grateful for: Ocean City.