It's Friday, March 28th and Deerfield Beaches' finest have gathered on the waterfront dock bar for 2 for 1 happy hour. The Cove Restaurant & Marina is nestled on the intercoastal waterway, and yachts and large fishing boats scurried around to find space to dock. Derek and I were firmly planted near this outside bar, but were eating dinner inside the open-aired establishment. Derek, being the gracious host he is, let me face this ouside dock bar for a prime people-watching post. The ladies would stream in behind me and he would let me know what color the hot one(s) of the bunch was/were wearing. In return, I would give him a play by play of the goings on behind him. I realize this may or may not sound creepy to you, but if 2 people can't watch the same crowd, commentating the shenanigans behind the others blind spot is necessary. Overall, the scene consisted of an eclectic mix of old sea captains, young brazilian foxes, and metrosexual men who work out too much - just to name a few of the players.
Beautiful women were coming out of the woodwork everywhere. For a midwesterner, the sight of constricting dresses, huge fake boobs, and overly bronzed skin is not seen often. As plentiful as the women were, there was another group that was even more apparent: Bostonian men. Or guys that thought they were from Boston. Even more insane than the amount of east coast dbags, was the amount of hot girl there who were eating them up. It was pathetic, to be honest. One of these gentleman in particular made both of us laugh so hard that our lungs nearly collapsed. I deemed him 'Chinstrap'. Picture, if you will: A tanned individual with short, curly, John-Gotti-esque 'My New Haircut' spiked hair. A skin-tight orange t shirt and jeans. He was accesorized with inch-thick bright WHITE glasses - that had a single lens that wrapped around both eyes. Ahh...ok. The best part of the ensemble though, was the facial hair. A barely visible chinstrap adorned his douchebagness. But this wasn't your avearage chinstrap, oh no. He finely trimmed it from left mid jaw to right mid jaw. NOT ear to ear. It just kinda...stopped at the ends of his jawline. It made no sense, but it was HILARIOUS! Unfortunately, he is not pictured. What is pictured, however, is one of the ugliest (aka best) mullets ever caught on film. And it's on a WOMAN, folks - believe it!
The Cove took over The Milwaukee Zoo as my top spot for people watching after that day. As the onslaught of beautiful lady tigers continued waltzing in, our conversation turned to money. And, how most likely, all these beauties were gold-digging whores, and would never be interested in talking to 2 average looking midwestern boys who don't make $50k together annually. We toasted to 'not having money' and drank away. At that moment, both of our lives would be changed forever.
We were seated next to this elderly couple. They were finishing up their meal at this point and sipping on some cocktails. Overhearing our toast, the woman leaned in and whispered, "Money doesn't buy you happiness". Which, depending on who you ask, is correct. She was your typical older Floridian lady. Wrinkled leathery skin from years in the South Florida sun. Her vibrant yellow and orange floral dress waved in the breeze, and thick-framed spectacles sat atop her nose. What I remember most, was the massive amount of gold jewerly she wore - it was as if she just returned from a Mr. T yard sale. Derek and I continued to discuss what profession we were involved in, and somewhere in the conversation, she asked us our birthdays. I told her, and she went on for 5 minutes about how my 'money line' was 'in the right state/axis/rotation' ? or something. I'm pretty sure I replied with, "Are you sure?", and Derek and I had a good chuckle. She continued to spit out words I had never heard before. Outer space vocabulary, or something. I understood a little. And by a little, I mean zero. Upon her request, I held out my palm, and she pointed to a 'line' that I've ALWAYS had and said something like, 'see how your money line is so close to your bla bla bla something something'. I just nodded and smiled, thinking that this broad was straight from the nut house, even though she was very nice. Thank god she wasn't scary, or I'm guessing I would have bolted mid conversation. Either way, she said I had good fortune, and how now would be a great time to buy that lottery ticket. (*side note - as I write this, It's dawning on me that during this conversation, and the moments that followed, I was taking care of 3 things on my 'things to do before I turn 25' list all at once...play the lottery, talk to strangers, and travel on a budget) I found it funny that during this odd convo, her husband never uttered a word. He just finished up what was left of his meal and gazed out towards the water. I could only guess that he was probably thinking, "Well, here she goes again..." Astrology lady then turned her attention to Derek, whose money line was NOT good, apparently. Derek replied with the, "Yeah, I already know that though." and I laughed. She informed him that his money line was currently in a state of weakness (or something), but would begin to come on strong later - April 10th was the date. "OK then. April 10th - I'll be here. 5:30pm. - waiting for you." Astrology lady smiled and softly said, "I'll leave my husband at home". I laughed so fucking hard I almost fell out of my chair. "I've been doing this a long time. For about 50 years." she added.
With that said, the couple got up and slowly escorted themselves out. Derek and I toasted again to . . . I dunno, an awkward conversation, and drank. But the experience was not over.
Looking in Derek's direction, astrology lady asked, "Do you own a car?"
"Did you drive it here?"
"Ok. You're going to want to check one of the tires...on...the left side of your vehicle. Ok? Just check the tires. One needs a little air."
Then astrology lady left. We both looked at each other with a puzzled, squinty eyed look.
"You know we're gonna have to check the tires before we go home now, right?" I said. Derek agreed. The rest of the evening at the Cove continued to be entertaining. Blondes in hotpants (why aren't they called hotshorts?) kept on schmoozing with middle aged men who wipe their ass with Ben Franklins', Bostonian dudes kept traveling in packs attacking unsuspecting ladies, and rum runners and mojitos flowed like rum runners and mojitos flow. We wanted to stay longer, but we had to pick up Schmill from the airport around 7ish that night. (A little LOLage here - Derek sent him a text around 6 that said something to the likes of 'Jake and I are drunk. We can't pick you up. Hail a cab to get to my house when you touch down. Sorry man." How funny would it have been if he actually read that & took a taxi to his apartment? I mean, you never know with the Schmill)
So we get to the mazda 3 and head off to the airport - forgetting the check the tire. 3 minutes go by, and we're still in the residential area of downtown Deerfield Beach when I yell, "Oh shit - we gotta check that tire!", in a joking manner. Derek pulls over to the side of the road willingly, and we both got out gawked at the left side of the car.
"No. . . fucking . . . way!" - Derek and I, in unison.
I started jumping around throwing punches at the air and screaming into the atmosphere as Derek put his hands on his head in utter shock and started laughing.
The left, front tire had visibly less air than the left back tire.
Actually, the left front tire had visibly less air than EVERY other tire on the car. It wasn't just a little bit lower. It was NOTICEABLY lower. Had it been my car, I would not have driven on it without putting more air into it. Now, please be aware that the old astrology lady was sitting next to us in the restaurant BEFORE we got there - and no - she didn't see us pull up (we parked a ways away), so she could not have walked her 90 year old ass out there and let some air out of it. Needless to say, I was slightly freaked out. Derek, although, exhibited his cool & collected self and popped his trunk to reveal an emergency road kit. Complete with radio, flashlight, tire pressure monitor, and, among many others - a small tire inflation nozzle. Which was really quite neat - except it had no juice left in it. Somewhat frustrated now, Derek goes to me, "The first gas station we see - we're stopping. I'm putting air in this tire and you're buying a lottery ticket." And it was done. We drove a bit and stopped at the first Mobil station. As Derek inflated his tire, I went inside and bought one $1 Florida Lotto ticket. Thoughts of what exactly I would buy with my winning ticket entered my head. (And that's where they would stay. Days later, I checked the ticket numbers in the newspaper - ZERO. None, zip, nada were correct.) After picking up Schmill from the airport, we went out in downtown Ft. Lauderdale. But that's another story. This tale is about an elderly Floridian woman with a strange, uncanny act to guess something right. And although I still don't believe in the zodiac calendar or psychic abilities, I do have to admit that it was a slightly freaky; yet superb way to begin a great vacation week.
Follow up: As I'm now just getting around to writing about my vacation three weeks ago, I called Derek during lunch today to see if he actually did go back to the Cove. He did not, and I was saddened. BUT - on that Monday, April 10th, he did go to Dania Beach to watch Jai Alai (which will be discussed in a future AFF2 post). Jai Alai is a game where crazy Spaniards meet in a huge enclosed court and throw a cue ball 150miles an hour with a straw basket attached to their right hand. It's an incredible spectacle. You can bet on which Jai Alai teams or players will win per match - we won $0 during the 8 or 9 matches we watched. But Derek, on this fateful Monday, won $30 crisp American dollars. Looks as if Derek's money line might be on the upswing after all. Till next time, Astrology lady...till next time.