Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Beware of Flying Objects


Since I now live near a beach, I decided it was probably in my best interest to actually go to the beach.


So Sunday, I packed up a beach bag and headed down Davie and met up with Austen, his friend with a name I can pronounce but not spell and some ESL students. Their idea was to play some ultimate frisbee. I was ready for a game of ultimate nothing.

The beach was crowded as hell with it being Sunday and all, with clear skies and oven-like tempatures, although there was a breeze whipping up the waves and thus whipping up any objects that might be sailing through the air.
See, I have a particular fear. It's going to sound bad, but I'm going to say it anyway. I have a fear of balls.

OK, that did sound bad. I should rephrase that. I have a fear of flying objects...because somehow, no matter who is throwing them, they always end up hitting me in the face. And it's not just balls either. Birds sometimes dive-bomb me, and frisbees are attracted to me like a magnet. Which is why I was a bit apprehensive about playing ultimate frisbee.
Austen braves the surf


Being a good sport though, I played a few rounds until Austen's throw nearly took my hand out. Perhaps I was safer lying on the sand and taking sun. Only I wasn't. While the frisbee sailed past me at lightening speed, the wind would take it and wing it at my head. My poor hands had to defend myself from the onslaught time and time again. As if that wasn't enough to worry about, some Croatian man and his young son decided to play soccer in the middle of the frisbee game and everytime the ball would get kicked onto someone's oiled-back or picnic lunch, he would laugh maniacally. Then young shirtless hotshots decided the place beside me was perfect for a game of tossing the ol' pigskin around. I don't know if hurtling footballs at girl's heads is some guy's ways of picking them up or what, but let me tell you...it doesn't work.


There's fear behind those sunglasses


The breaking point was when the Croatian man brought out his football and decided to receive the catch by standing right in front of me. And, let me tell you, eight-year old boys do NOT know how to throw a football. After the umptienth bad throw nearly took my sunglasses out, I decided it was time to go.

Of course the wind still had it in for me. Snapping pics of the waves and people as I walked along the seawall, I was unaware of a series of gigantic swells heading my way. Suffice to say I felt like I went swimming that day, without even stepping foot in the ocean.


Apres surf drinks at Moxies with Amanda, Austen and sea-swept hair

5 comments:

Richie Etwaru said...

Great Blog, very engaging, one of the only few that kept my attention for more than 30 seconds.

Wanderlusting said...

Thanks Richie! That's nice of you to say

Manders said...

I'm afraid of balls too -flying objects (i.e. birds, toy planes...)I'm okay with, but balls -soccer, football, baseball... dang, call me a wuss, but I just don't want to get hurt in a game...though I am partial to playing "toss"...I always imagine playing soccer & getting a shin kicked..ouch!

Wanderlusting said...

I also like toss...preferably with a Nerf ball

almost famous kiwi said...

You always keep me entertained girl! I got a text from Aman saying he was on your rooftop, did you know he was on your rooftop, will you be needing a restraining order? Oh how I miss the lovely west coast surf, the polluted water, the dirt sand hehe just kidding, I have the Saint Lawrence river to deal with now and it aint pretty, people are afraid to touch that water. Anyways,, I miss you alot, you should get yourself over here, you too Ross, we can all go swimming in the river and play with balls, and yes that was supposed to sound bad mwahaha