As I drove past the twin laser cannons protecting the bridge, an automatic lane fence shunted me into the "T" (for TemporaryVisitor) lane which led up to the checkpoint guardhouse. "Sorry", said the man behind the 2" thick plexiglass wall, "our license scanner / computer system just said that you once got a C- in a Civics class. Can't be having punks like you mixing with our elite residents." "Check your files, I fixed that with a make-up exam 18 years ago" I replied. "Hmm … OK, missed that, move to Station 2".
The storm trooper at Station 2 affixed the standard 12" "T" to my car and handed me the 12" red letter "T" that must be attached to all visitors’ clothing. "Remember, if you're going swimming, the lifeguards will have to spray a red "T" onto your back that can be seen if your shirt is off. They all wear inflatable body armor, so they'll be easy to spot" he said.
After driving around for two hours, I finally found a great place to park only a 20 minute walk from the beach. Usually, I'm not so lucky. On the walk to the beach, only 3 different troopers stopped and body scanned me for cigarettes so it was shorter walk than usual. "Remember TemporaryVisitor (they call all non-residents that), we now all wear personal body cameras, so you better not cause trouble!" snarled the last trooper.
Having now spent 30 minutes on the actual beach in the section allocated for TemporaryVisitors, I found that my nerves we're completely shot. Not sure if it was the armed guards with their new personal body cameras around our perimeter or the sound of occasional nervous stifled sobs from some of my fellow “T’s”, but I just had to leave. Two body scans and one "T" lane shunting later, I was safely back on the mainland.
Safely arriving home, I completely lost it once behind closed doors. Next thing I remember, there I was yet once again swilling down cheap synthetic tequila until I passed out in a drunken disgusting heap on my living room floor.
Y'know, I really love the beach, but I just don't think I can do this anymore. The subsequent hangovers are just becoming too painful a price for 30 minutes of butt-free beach time pleasure!
More information about formatting options