The Los Beach Trip was JB’s idea, his brainbaby, and although he couldn’t be there in person, he was certainly there in spirit. We felt his presence from the time we arrived Friday afternoon to the last departures on Monday morning.

The weather was perfect…blue skies mottled lightly with clouds, not too hot during the day, not too cool at night. Clay, Grant, and I enjoyed the final moments of daylight on Friday while we waited for the rest to arrive for dinner at the Harbor Master. There we dined on the finest fried seafood Carolina Beach had to offer while listening to tired Buffett tunes drifting out from the bar.

Afterward we retired to our beach mansion to imbibe the fruits of the local ABC.

The 30-something ladies next door found us to be quite entertaining. After they put their kids to bed they lounged out on their deck recounting various sexual conquests of yesteryear. Though a bit older than most of our group (save Mike D and Ray of course), they could still picture in vivid detail the size, shape, and texture of the various genital appendages they had come to know. Being otherwise unoccupied, we eavesdropped on their conversation.

John Los eventually called over to them blathering something about “tigah shahks”. The hags responded, and John’s success prompted others of us to get in on the act. We delightedly called back and forth until Jeff Martin came out to investigate all the commotion. With a classic lack of tact he berated the women and made fun of their earlier conversation. They were not pleased and responded in kind.
It would take several beers, cocktails, margaritas, and rounds of drinkball before we could redeem ourselves.

John Los struck up rousing renditions of our favorite songs and we all belted out the lyrics. Old classics melded into improvised ballads and the women, having previously retreated into their sanctum, emerged to hear our siren song. Once again we fell into their good graces and the night was perfect.