Work Day
On Patrol
Wednesday at Dawn- 6am Petit Street Camarillo
Low humming noise from semi trucks passing by on the freeway across the park.
The coffee couldn’t drip into the pot slower. Eyes still caked with sleep as I walk the 11 pound Chihuahua Lula.
Shift starts at 7am and I’m still groggy from the back to back 3am to 3pm shifts at Ventura Harbor.
Life, for a lack of a better vocabulary, has been “gnarly” lately. Death in the family, not enough sleep and more death at work.
You’d think that someone from the HR department would reach out to you after an unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate someone in the middle of a highway on a Saturday afternoon. I guess it’s just part of the job.
My love life has been inconsistent to say the least. I think I’m still in love with my Ex who left me with a seaglass collection, a cold sore and an addiction to hand rolled cigarettes. My excuse for not moving on is that I work too much but realistically I just don’t want to meet anyone new.
At work now, I sit in my lifeguard truck on the sand overlooking Mugu military base. A seal barks in the distance and rain starts to accumulate on the windshield. It will be nice to see the hills turn green again.
My heads filled with career options. I thought I’d have this figured out by my 30’s. The more doors I open the more I miss being a dirtbag cruising around in my truck surfing and looking at shit.
I laughed at the thought of a lightning strike to the lifeguard truck unburdening my brain from the stress of making any decisions. With my luck I’ll die from a cold at the age of 90.
What’s my porpoise(purpose)
A therapist charging 150 bucks an hour could probably help me make some decisions but who the hell has the time for that.
A thick waft of death tickled my nostrils at Thornhill beach. I came across the bloating corpse of a female seal lion propped up on the rocks above the hightide line. Another victim of Domoic Acid poisoning that is plaguing the coastline. I wonder if it kills an animal that size what’s it doing to me.
I inhale three hard-boiled eggs and continue South down the PCH.
About a mile down the road I see the skid marks on the highway from the accident I mentioned before. Vehicle v.s. Cyclist. I was the first on scene and attempted to give the victim CPR in front of a crowd of 40+ people. The marks would soon be washed away creating a new canvas for another violent scene that I or another coworker would be exposed to. I don’t do it for the 20 bucks an hour, I want to be here but eggs are getting awfully expensive.
Sycamore beach was quiet. A single fisherman on the waterline. Appeared to be “fishing” not “catching”. lol. I started to fidget while watching and decided to continue my patrol.
I started thinking of another Ex girlfriend. The one that stole my 7’8 Deepest Reaches Mega Fish surfboard shaped for me by Kyle Albers. I’d really like that board back but have already sent two texts to no reply. That’s just my type.
My ears ringing from constant wind and cold salt water exposure. I drown out the annoying tone with podcasts and books on tape. Bill Murray was on Joe Rogan, after that got old I switched to Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail.
My radio screeches, Surcom asks if there’s an available unit to deal with a homeless person with a dog off leash. My eyes roll. I’m not available.
I watch two people on softops at County Line sit in the pouring rain not catch any waves. Lucky bastards.
I’ll make my way to North Beach to take a break.
“993 for 992 on dume”
“go ahead”
“I’ll be taking my PT at North Beach”
Dressed in a poncho I strolled the beach collecting seaglass in the rain. Thinking about my Ex again. Wonder if she’s enjoying New Zealand. Spoiled brat.
30 minutes later I had a pocket full of glass and headed back up to Mugu where I started. Time for another Patrol.
