They were buff, blonde and buxom. They studied Aquadynamics at one of those sunbelt universities in Florida, the Virgins, or Hawaii. The details were vague, and the group surrounding them was not particular about the details. We were too stunned, indeed engulfed, by their beauty. They could have rattled off the contents of a Chiltons’ auto repair manual, and they would have smiled and nodded their idiot heads. Wives and girlfriends glared. Those unattached males in the group probably calculated their odds and imagined royal Flushes while they actually had a mere pair of deuces.
I was under the stewardship of my wife and mother-in-law. So it was worthwhile staring from the corners of my eyes but not being blatant about my attention.
It was October, and it was the season for fairs in our corner of Maine. So we made our way inland from the coast to look at how others lived “away.” Flatlanders. There was not too much agriculture where we were, so things like an oxen pull and giant pumpkins were exotic. We were more the lobster boat race and seafood festival type of folks. At least my wife and in-laws were. I was from New York City. So It all was brand new and exciting to me.
But the one thing that ached with familiarity was what was happening with those buff, blonde, and buxom young ladies and the surrounding group. As I watched, my wife Georgia dug into my ribs with her fingers, “Wes, stop staring at those blonde bimbos!” Then, looking at her, I said, “Georgia, watch; something’s going to happen; soon.”
Sure enough, two vulpine young men, looking just like a pair of toughs from Brooklyn, were slickly moving around the group. The admirers of aquadynamics were having their wallets removed with a grace that Vinny “the fingers” Gleason from my old neighborhood would have admired.
Georgia and her mother began shouting and pointing. The aquadynamics crowd dispersed in a carefully arranged pattern that implied that this was their regular gig. The confusion of the “marks” or “fish” helped them escape.
Over lunch, my lack of action was criticized. I should have done something right away! But instead, I pointed out that I was merely suspicious and only guessed that a con and theft were being set up. Georgia looked at me and suggested it was just my stupid New York way of not getting involved that was at fault. Then, my mother-in-law sanctimoniously intoned that I was too engaged in looking at the blondes.
To this, my wife sniffed and gave me ” the look.” This was one argument I was not going to win.