Picnic At Last

Last week the planned picnic thing didn't work out so well. This week I had mentioned it again, but by the time I got home, I was tired. I had no particular desire to tromp about, and Drew was off with friends anyway. But Kiel and his girlfriend had already packed a lunch and were just waiting for me. How could I say no? I'll just have to be tired later.

We head for Charlotte Beach and find a parking space fairly close to the park. We lug our heavy cooler to a table near the beach and set out the goodies. I sink down on the picnic table bench with a sigh of relief. Today the park is not overly crowded, but there are several events happening.

On the sand, a volleyball tournament. The aroma of bar-b-que announces a group collecting in one of the pavilions. Each activity has loud music broadcast over super sized speakers. Raffles are being announced, team results are aired. No one is swimming - must be a water ban I guess. Fortunately, its not all that hot and a pleasant breeze wafts past us continually.

We take our time munching sandwiches and pickles and chips, entertained by the people around us. One party near us decides to feed the sea gulls. Yuck. Little babies lay with their parents, sprawling on blankets and in little tent type shelters. Lovers stroll by hand in hand (and sometimes more intimate - don't look).

After lunch I hit the bathroom - a disaster, but when you have to go, you go where you can. We head for the pier where my friend and I walked last year after my chemo. I remember taking a long time to get to the end, but making it. Today I am sure I can easily make the long walk. I start out, but soon realize that its going to be one of those bathroom kind of days. Still, I am determined to make it to the end and back.

I abandon Kiel and Andrea and start booking feet. I am not even sure I can hold on to get to the end, and there is no hope of a bathroom facility until I return to the beach area. I barely glance at the lake when I finally reach the farthest point, but circle and head back, praying to make it before I have an accident. That would end our outing for certain.

I do not pay any attention to the puddles or the spiderwebs or the fish bubbles or the boats returning to harbor or the children running or the lovers kissing. I do not see the old woman covered from head to toe in scarves or the strange young man with the lawn chair over his shoulders. I do not stop to admire the sailboats gliding effortlessly in the briny green water or take note of the crook in the lake where the color changes from emerald to topaz.

All the beauty is lost on my being as I focus on making a beeline for the bathroom, hoping against hope that muscles I no longer have will hold long enough. I remember my Grandmother racing through the JC Penney store in Maybrook shopping center, hanging on to her hinny as she dashed for a bathroom one day when I was ten and spending some time with her in the summer.

Now I am my grandmother. Maybe I should consider wearing a Depends when I go on outings. Sigh. I am now within strike distance. Will the nearest bathroom be open? I step off the pier and onto the sand of the beach, then up onto the grass and finally onto the blacktop of the sidewalk. I am close. But I have to circle the building to get to the right door. It is open. There are three women standing inside, leisurely chatting. Are you in line?

They stare at me, in no hurry as they say they are just waiting for their children. I breeze past them and into a stall. There is no lock on the door. I will have to hold it shut. No matter. I made it. Whew! Now, is there paper? Yes! Grace abounds. I hear the women kvetching about the deplorable state of the bathrooms. One mother yells at her kid not to touch anything. Just squat and pee. I giggle.

I guess it depends on how desperate you are what you are willing to put up with. Now that I am OK once again, I catch up with Kiel and Andrea. We collect ourselves and decide to head home. Let's save the partying for another day when things are a bit less bumpy. Besides, I still need a nap.