“Fight
Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
I used to be friends with a guy from Northern Ireland. We are
going back thirty years here so quite a while ago. We’ve lost touch since as
you tend to do with some if not most acquaintances.
This story is about his Dad.
As you may or may not know the weather in Ireland is awful.
Cold, wet, windy, rains every day with a ‘y’ in it, or so the locals say. One
traveler from Africa once remarked that it was like living under an elephant!
The result has been a continual decline in vacation resorts,
towns and villages there. People still come for the golf, renewed interest in
that with the recent success of Rory McIlroy and Darren Clark. But on the whole
the locals prefer to get away for one or two weeks to a location with at least
the chance of a bit of heat and sunshine.
But in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the period in which
this story is set, foreign travel was a fairly new phenomenon for most people.
But my friend’s father and mother thought it would be a nice
and different break for them and they booked two weeks in the south of Spain.
They arrived without incident, booked in to their hotel and
that first night just had a meal in the hotel restaurant and went to bed. Traveling
is always tiring.
The next day they partook of the buffet breakfast that most
of the touristy hotels in Spain provide and after that went back to their room,
got their towels and creams and so forth, and headed for the beach, which was
only about 100 yards or so from the hotel.
My friend’s mother lay down on a towel to take some rays, as
they say, and his father who wasn’t really the type of guy who liked to lay about all day, got a beach chair from which he had a better vantage point to
survey the beach and sea activities.
We’ll never know whether it was the heat, or just the sight
of bare heaving glistening continental bosoms, (they're not a bit bashful in parts of Europe), but after about half an hour on
the beach it all became too much for my friend’s Dad. All of a sudden, without
any warning whatsoever, he jumped out of his beach chair, started to yell like
Tarzan, beating his chest at the same time, and ran towards the Mediterranean
Sea.
There was a slight slope in the beach and by the time he had
reached the water he had built up a considerable head of steam. His momentum
took him quite a bit into the water, not quite waist deep but getting there.
Now, I should say that the Med is no Pacific Ocean, but there
are nevertheless waves and as everyone knows the seventh is usually bigger than
those preceding it.
And just when my friend’s father reached about as deep as he
could on his feet he decided to dive through the next wave, which was a
relatively big one. According to his wife, who was looking as this spectacle
with more than a little bemusement, he was still doing his version of a Tarzan
yell and beating his chest. And so into the sea he dived still yelling and open mouthed.
I forgot to tell you he wore dentures, which is rather
crucial to the rest of the story.
Yes, when the wave passed and he resurfaced not a tooth of
any kind had he in his mouth.
Of course he frantically searched for both sets of gnashers.
I love watching when people who don’t know how to dive
underwater try it. Their ass goes way up in the air, their head maybe six
inches or a foot under, and then after maybe two or three seconds they re-emerge
gasping and spluttering as if they’ve just been down to the bottom of sea.
I imagine that’s what he did.
But you know what the sea is like. Both sets of false teeth
were long gone, never to be found again.
I have heard tell of people packing extra underwear, or shoes
(hey ladies), or even glasses as emergency back-ups. But I have never heard of
anyone packing an extra set of teeth.
My friend’s father wasn’t to be the first one to do it and so
he had to spend the next twelve and a half days of his vacation completely
toothless, only able to eat soft mushy stuff and soup, but having to avoid the
juicy steaks completely.
And he looked like a prat too. The
photo below isn't him, but you get the idea.
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