Downtown, 1:19 p.m. – Ugly art surrounds me

Business is booming at this downtown art fair. Also booming is this woman’s rear end at the tent nearest me. She ought have the grace (or good sense) not to wear stretchy fabrics if she’s going to be bending over a lot. I see London, I see France, I see this fat WOACA’s underpants!

Anyway. There are more stuck-up old people walking around looking at ugly art than I care to talk about. There’s a couple camped out on the next picnic table over that has huge sun hats on.

They already have a bag full of stuff and they’re perusing this brochure like they’re planning the invasion of Normandy. “What about this aisle here and then meet up at this stall?”

There’s a grouping of four old people on the table over from that that BROUGHT A COOLER. I kid you not. They brought supplies to an art show. Not art supplies. Food supplies. They’re not vendors, just shoppers. Old people are serious about their shopping in this town.

One old lady is dressed in a Marcel Marceau costume and I keep waiting for her to jump up and burst into a “Mime trapped in a Glass Box” routine. Instead, I think she’s trapped in bad fashion.

Oh my Aztec gods. The fat woman from earlier has been joined by another woman in a black and white tropical print. Every time she bends over I get palm fronds the size of Loch Ness staring me in the face.

There is a very tan, very fit man doing some things with telescopes. He has on a hat that would look at home on Crocodile Dundee and shades.

Random fashion advice. Fat ladies should not wear tiny backpacks. It does not work.

More random advice. Ugly art does not look better in large groupings. If anything, the ugliness is compounded. Think of a thrift shop. That sad and misused couch you donated just looks all the worse for being lumped together with its cast-off brethren.

I truly pity the people who feel that they have to fill their walls with all this bad art. I can see seascapes with umbrellas, seascapes with clouds, seascapes done in watercolor, seascapes with lighthouses, seascapes with forests in the background … you get the picture. Lots of sand and water.

The couple with the floppy sun hats is moving off. He’s breaking right and she’s breaking left. I wonder who will benefit from their large-wallet largesse?

The telescope man has hooked some victims. And he’s trying to sell a book to some poor unsuspecting woman. “You could see it if that cloud would cooperate.”

There is a woman wearing a black shirt standing at the telescope looking puzzled. Seriously. Who wears a damn black shirt to an OUTDOOR ART FAIR on a hot day? Are you insane? Well, if you plan to buy this art, maybe.

Telescope man is pimping this astronomy book like it is an Oprah best-seller. He’s moving this couple back and forth between the telescopes.

Let’s talk about Oprah. I don’t like Oprah. She’s a heifer. She let George Bush on her show in 2000 and let him kiss her on the cheek. Now look where we are. Shame on YOU Oprah. Shame on YOU!

Fashion disaster. Purple skirt. Pink top. Muffin top that prevents the twain from meeting.

Karma is a cruel mistress. I was just thinking “Who comes to an outdoor art fair in six-inch-high wedge heels” as this overdressed yuppie walked by. Ten feet later, she stumbled and went down. Slaves to fashion will always pay a heavy price.

There’s a random woman on a Segway wearing a Santa cap rolling around. I’d like a Segway.

OK. I’m done and I’m hungry. Must eat brains.

Peace out.

Beach park, 5:47 p.m. - Human fauna, turkeys and geriatric picnics

The ocean is always so calming. I wonder why I don't come here more often. The city has this great beach park with a shaded pavilion, tables and even a concession stand that's open for part of the day.

The fauna here is interesting. There's a Muscovy duck stuffed fatter than any Thanksgiving turkey waddling around looking for yet more nutrition to cram down its gullet. There's a black and white cat stalking the duck.

Then there's the human fauna. That's a whole 'nother story!

An old man the color of an orange wearing a pair of raggedy blue bathing trunks is reading a newspaper and watching two old women with a small Igloo cooler. The two old ladies are a treat. They are retirees most likely, probably inhabitants of either trailers or low-end condo units. They look to be habitués, what with the coming here with the cooler. It smacks of knowing to be well-prepared.

They've got a spread from KFC. That chicken actually smells kind of good. I get a whiff of chicken every now and again as the wind brings it my way. Man, I'd like some chicken and a KFC biscuit right about now.

The salt air and the brine are the main things on the air. We're pretty far back from the beach. There is a boardwalk down to the sand and signs warning NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY. There's a flat wide beach with sand the color of sugar. The sound of the waves and surf is so calming. It's like a distant, soothing wash, like water running in the background of a hot bath. I can feel the tension draining even as I type.

The sky is perfectly blue with puffy clouds the shape of cotton balls. The sun is so bright it hurts to look toward the ocean.

There is a random creepy old man that I can see out there on the beach. He's walked back and forth at least four times. now. He doesn't have a metal detector. He's scoping out that woman in the yellow bikini with her breasts thrust into the air

Oh. Here come some more people. A guy and a girl - tourists most likely - they're going off toward the beach showers on the other side of the pavilion. Oddly, they have on matching swimsuits. The guy has an armband tattoo and another huge tat on his left pectoral. The girl is bouncy without being all Anna-Nicole boobalicious.

There are three extremely old people here now. They've unpacked a huge spread - all in matching Halloween ware. There's a Halloween pumpkin-shaped dish, glasses, tableware. Damn. I just noticed they have a green tablecloth. Didn't notice that before because the wrought-iron tables here are green too. Now more old people are coming up. Some of them can barely walk. Don't these people need to be in a home?

It's like an old people convention up in here. All the old men are being gallant and giving the old ladies their hats. We're sitting underneath a pavilion at 6 p.m. in the afternoon and old men are still worried about t their old women. It is so cute.

There is apparently iced tea. One of the old girls is VERY proud of her iced tea. I bet that old girl was a school teacher. She might be seventy, but her voice can still cut through the background noise. Now all the old girls are complimenting the hostess on the "decorations." Shit. I want to see some black cats, ghosts and a jack-o-lantern with a live fire inside.

Somebody brought a thermos. I wonder what's in there? Their canes keep falling. I hope I'm this happy when I'm old. They look remarkably self-content.

One old woman is alone. I wonder where her husband is? She's dressed in blue slacks, a nice pullover and has cornflower-blue clip-on earrings. Her hair is fixed and she's clearly making the most effort of anyone at the table. I can tell from the conversation that she's the one who brought the decorations. And she arranged the geriatric playdate. Hmm. They're having Subway. The other old ladies had KFC.

Everything is quiet now. Man. They are packing it away. I'm trying not to be nosy and stare, but all seven of the old-people-party are miles away.

The KFC girls left their Igloo cooler on the table next to me. I really want to look in there and see what's in it.

The sun is setting far enough so that it is below the level of the pavilion, even though I'm on the back row of tables. I forgot how bright the late afternoon sun is in Florida.

Oho. That duck from earlier has shaken the Kitteh and is now bugging the mess out of the old people for food. He's moving around the table hoping for something to drop from clumsy arthritic fingers and into his voracious gullet. Tough luck ducky. These old birds are tougher than you are.

Another duck decides to join the party. They're mostly silent. Very ugly too. Wow. One just took an enormous dump right behind one of the old ladies with a cane. I hope she's careful getting up. I just have visions of that commercial from the eighties. "Help, I've slipped in duck crap and I can't get up!"

Every time I come to the beach I fall in love with it again. The peaceful sounds, the soft crash of the waves, the salty tang of the air. I breathe easier.

OK. My time is up. Thank you and goodbye.