So Many Hours

I almost didn't go.

I woke up this morning around 8:30, and wondered if it was very responsible of me to go to an air show at Jones Beach knowing that I had to work tonight. The right thing to do would be to rest for my long drive, and for the jobs I had on the subsequent two mornings. The newspaper didn't do anything to convince me otherwise. Once I saw that a quarter of a million spectators were expected, I was less inclined to go out. But it was nice out. Sunny, clear and cool, the outdoors were calling me. I've been cooped up with rain all week, spending a lot of my lunch hours in malls. I decided to grab my camera and make an attempt to go. If I hit traffic, I could always turn back. If the crowd was intimidating, I could always excuse myself early. I definitely didn't want to risk getting home too late for a five o'clock mass, since I didn't want to get up too early tomorrow.

The weather was beyond perfect. The traffic was even better. The road was wide open, and I didn't hit a problem until I was almost there and a drawbridge was raised. As I sat waiting, I felt hot for the first time and turned on the radio. It was expected to get up to 80 degrees, and I realized I'd forgotten to put on any sunblock. I never think that's going to be a problem, and I've never been right.

The crowd was big, but so's the beach and people were spaced out enough that I didn't feel too claustrophobic. I was also on a weird emotional high, a goofy grin that crept over my face when I spotted planes in the distance while at the toll booth was still there as I called my friend's cell phone to find out where everyone was. I got directions that would turn out to be wrong, but at the time had other concerns, like taking a picture of a Black Hawk down by the parking field. Music was blasting, and even now some tunes are still looping in my head.

It took me over an hour to locate the group, but by then I had a lot of great shots. The show was spectacular and promise of a big finish kept me there until the end. The clouds rolled in minutes after the show finished and, as is to be expected with my luck, the batteries on my camera died a few minutes BEFORE the startling conclusion. My zoom isn't that great anyway, and there were three other people with cameras that caught pilots in cockpits. Later this week I'll post the best of my bunch and possibly some other folks' shots.

Parking in a further lot proved to be smart since I found a back exit that led away from an infinite line of traffic and on to the parkway home. I felt like I was blushing, felt very warm, and noticed how red my forearms were. I checked the mirror the first chance I had to see a beet-red MCF looking back at me. I have good sunblock which I bought months ago when I first got bitten by the beach bug. I have to remember to use it, or I'm eventually going to burst in to flames.

I was home for about twenty minutes before going to mass with my mom, and returned home for another twenty and dinner before going to the gig with my dad. We picked up an older trumpet player and as he told us how a visit to his doctor had depressed him what with his loss of weight and appetite and emphesema and prostate problems, to name a few. He spoke of not feeling like going out or doing anything, and even staying home last week when his wife went for ice cream with their grandchildren. My dad told him how you have to stay active and not think like that. Once you give up, and choose sleep over life, the latter diminishes and the former eventually becomes permanent.

We got soaked by a brief shower and subesquently walked through a muddy field between rides, games, and food stations. It was a last-minute booking so there were only six of us, but we still sounded better than the off-key acapella singers who were on stage. Two hours later and we were on our way back. We dropped off the trumpet player and my eyes started itching. I rubbed them and instantly regretted it. Whether I still had a stray particle of sand or some lotion I had put on earlier, my eyes both began burning then tearing uncontrollably, and we were on a one-lane road with no shoulder and a line of tailgaters. I'd close one eye while the other teared and switch off, and my head started hurting. After an agonizing five minutes it subsided, and by then we were almost home. I flushed my eyes with water and I'm okay now, though a bit tired.

There are so many hours in a day. So often, if I know I'm working or have specific plans, I won't plan to do anything else. If I stayed home today I wouldn't have gotten burned, and I would have been rested for my job tonight and the three coming up in the next two days, but I would have missed an amazing and memorable experience. And listening to my 78 year old friend bemoan how he doesn't feel the same as when he was 20 has me thinking too. At 30, I sure don't feel the same as I did when I was 20. But I'm not near death yet, as far as I know. Just as it takes a conscious effort to remember sunblock, I think I need to work on my multitasking mentality. Today proves that I can do a lot of things in a single day. Work doesn't have to eliminate fun, and vice versa. When you use all of them, you realize how many hours there are.