Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Fridge For Sale...Slight Kelp Problem

Love it or hate it, Huntington Beach has very dirty beaches. Not only is it almost always covered in trash, but the water is filled with trash, too.

I don't know where it ranks on the pollution scale (which has nothing to do with trash and everything to do with dangerous bacteria, which apparently are totally unrelated), but if there was a beach ranking that calculated primarily empty Doritos bags, we'd be off the charts.

Today was actually a beautiful day. Crystal clear, warm, light winds, fun sized waves, deep blue water color, and more trash than I've ever seen. My favorite is when the trash gets tangled up with the kelp and you get these sort of semi-organic Homer Simpson outsider art installations floating in the lineup.

Anyhow, while I was sloshing about in Orange County's very own offshore landfill, I remembered the grandaddy of all floating Doritos bags which washed ashore about a year ago in the shape of a full sized refrigerator. Not kidding.

It was mid-afternoon, pretty warm, sloppy windswell, not many guys out...and suddenly I notice what looks like a capsized boat floating outside. I paddle up to it. Nope. Fridge. Floating. In the lineup.

Over the next few minutes the fridge slowly but surely made its way into the impact zone where it suddenly became the biggest rock in HB history, waves bouncing off like mortar rounds. And the scariest part is that it was 80% submerged, iceberg style, and there were these creepy looking pipes poking up out of the water (I'm not sure what they're called, but take a look at the back of your fridge and you'll see what I'm talking about).

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your viewpoint) no boogie boarders got mowed over or crushed by this mammoth-sized Kenmoore flotsam during its brief trip through the inside, and the next thing I knew there was a crowd at the water's edge. The fridge had finally beached itself and people were looking at it like Free Willy had just bodysurfed into HB for a quick tattoo.

The lifeguards showed up and roped it off, which I thought was hilarious because the time to do something was when it was plowing through the impact zone looking for sun-blinded boogie boarders to plant in the sandbar.

Nice work guys, you didn't see the fucking FRIDGE in the water for the past HALF HOUR?

Later an entire gurney washed up with a patient still in it, frantically pushing the nurse and morphine buttons and wondering how the hell he'd managed to wet himself so badly and why the hot chicks on Baywatch had suddenly been replaced with fat Riverside girls eating Doritos.

Actually no. But after the fridge incident I went home, so who am I to say it didn't happen?

The Colonel says, "At ease."