|Enter At Your Own Risk|
It's always fun to go to a nude beach with your mother. I was visiting Miami from California in 1998 when my sister Monica, our mom and our aunt Blanca, decided on a girls outing.
"Let's go to Haulover Beach," said Monica.
"But Monica," said our mom, "Haulover is a nude beach."
Monica was behind the wheel of the car, driving towards Haulover beach quite decisively. "Mom!" she scolded, "Haulover is not a nude beach. Where did you ever get that idea?" I can only assume that our mom must've seen this fact covered on one of the local news stations since she didn't get down to the beach that often.
My mom knew better than to argue with Monica. When you're a kid, you have to do whatever your parents tell you to do. When they get older, they pretty much have to do whatever you tell them to do.
Monica drove her car into the Haulover Beach parking lot, which is situated right off of Collins Ave, where we gathered up towels and beach blankets, beach bags loaded down with No Ad suntan oil, back issues of Cosmopolitan magazine and other cheap reading material, and headed down to the beach. It was close to summer, which means in Florida: really hot. Hot to the point of you're-not-sure-if-you-want-your-feet-to-touch-the-sand hot, and very-few-people-on-the-beach hot.
As we walked down to what looked like a great spot to lay out, next to the lifeguard tower, we noticed only one other towel set up with no one on it. We took our large beach blanket, a brown and beige blanket from Peru. It had artistic renderings that had been woven into the cloth, of llama's and Peruvian Indian men and women portrayed in an Egyptian Hieroglyphic style sideways stance. We each took one corner of the blanket and smoothed it down on the hot sand, then placed our back issues of Cosmopolitan along with our suntan oil and several bottles of ice cold water on the towel
The lifeguard noticed us and used this opportunity to break what must have been an extremely long boredom spell. "How you girls doin' today?" he asked after jumping down the last few steps of the lifeguard tower, thus proving to us his extreme athletic capabilities. He was wearing the briefest pair of red speedos, a deep tan on a muscled body and a pair of Foster Grants ensuring that we couldn't see the whites of his eyes.
"We're doing great!" I said while removing my short, white lace bikini cover up. "I'm visiting from California. So excited to be in Miami. I spent lots of time here at Haulover back in the day."
"Is that right?" he said while eyeing all us girls appreciatively. "Not many folks on the beach today. I'll be glad to keep y'all company. I got a can of sliced peaches I can share with you." I can only wonder about the sliced peaches. Perhaps this is a little known lifeguard aphrodisiac used in extreme circumstances to get women who are otherwise clothed, to disrobe.
Monica didn't seem too interested in this feast. She was eyeing the aquamarine water of the Atlantic Ocean, sweat already breaking out on her brow from the extreme heat. "Let's go for a swim," she said.
Mom and Blanca elected to stay behind while Monica and I headed out for a swim. We half-walked, half-ran towards the water to avoid scorching our feet. As we neared the water, we spotted a lone woman swimming. At this point all we could see was her bleached blond hair. It was the kind of hair that is so severely bleached by the sun that it resembles the straw hair of a scarecrow. The bleached blond hair perfectly matched her brown face which was so weathered by the sun that it looked more like a catchers mitt. Bleached blond woman was getting ready to emerge from the water. This we knew because we could now see her torso. Her bare torso. As she walked towards us, her enormous brown breasts swayed back and forth like a pendulum. Uh-Oh, I'm not in California anymore. This woman could use a little Newport Beach implant action, thought I. After the torso, her bare butt and legs and finally her feet emerged from the water. She headed straight for the one towel set up on the beach. It was - do I even have to say it - the towel set up directly next to our blanket.
"Jennifer, look. That lady is talking to Mom and Blanca."
I could see my mom and Blanca smiling politely, nodding and making small talk with Scarecrow Lady. Monica and I laughed and enjoyed their discomfort from our secure spot in the warm Atlantic Ocean, the barely refreshing warm water caressing our bikini clad bodies.
We finally emerged from the water just in time to see the lifeguard break out the can of peaches. He produced a cheap can opener and went to work opening the can while peach syrup slopped all around the top of the can, splashing over his red speedos. "These peaches here are nice and cool. Kept 'em on ice all morning." We all sat around Naked Lady's towel and politely ate cling peaches.
Later, Monica and I decided to walk north on the beach for a little exercise. As we walked, the warm ocean water lapping at our feet, we noticed that in the distance, there was quite an active group of beach-goers assembled. As we drew closer, we noticed that the throng was a bit of an elderly group. Okay, this makes sense because it was a weekday. Also, Miami Beach is known for retirees so no big surprise there. As we got closer, we noticed that this multitude of senior citizens were bare ass naked.
"Whoa. Monica, I don't know if I'm ready for this." We could see old men wearing no more than a ear splitting grin, especially when they saw us two young things. Many were playing paddle ball, some were splashing in the water. "This is too much reality for a Tuesday morning."
We decided that would be a good time to turn around and rejoin the peach-eating group. When we returned to where Mom and Blanca were stationed next to lifeguard tower, we saw the two of them trying to mind their own business while Bleached Blond Naked Lady caught a few more rays on her bare butt.
At the end of our excursion that day, as we were sitting in Monica's car, getting ready to leave Haulover Beach, Blanca said "You know, is more sexy I think when lady have a tan line. Pero ese pedazo de carne negro!" (But that piece of black meat!)
THE (BARE) END