Share This

Venice Flytrap: Perfect Pictures Not Taken


A blogumn by Kelly Kaboom

If only you could see what I see daily. The oddities and random occurrence’s that take place on the boardwalk. If only there was some way for me to show you what a full marching band playing “All Right Now” looks like at 9pm on a Friday night. I wish you could see the man with the dollhouse on his head as he dances and sings with the live musicians. And wouldn’t you love to witness a roving pack of flesh eating zombies shuffle on by?  These are  truly great sights to behold and I would love to show them to you.

But alas I have no images to share with you yet again. For though working on the boardwalk is a never ending source of visual stimuli, I always forget my damn camera! It sits and waits patiently; battery charged, memory card ready. Yet the damn thing is so technologically advanced while I am so technologically challenged that I am pretty much afraid to use it. So with nothing more than the power of the pen I shall have to write you a picture.

Two weeks ago I watched the marine layer roll in as the sun went down. The air temp dropped a rapid 15 degrees and a chill took over. People scurried along as the cafe’ cleared out. With only minutes left in my shift I was a restless one already. Suddenly from down the block came a crash and bang followed by horns and shouting. Dying to see what was going on, I leaned out over the fenced railing. Right in the middle of the boardwalk stood a full college marching band, as they played a man dressed as a giant Christmas tree danced around.  With ants in my pants I ran up to my boss and begged to be cut early, or at least allowed to go investigate what was happening.

“Please Lisa PLEASE! I have to see! I just gotta know what’s going on!” I begged dancing from one foot to another.
“You know, curiosity killed the cat,” she quipped.
“Yeah but satisfaction brought it back,” I answered.

This made her pause and turned the debate in another direction. After a little back and forth I got my wish and shot out the door.

What I ran into was the Stanford marching band in town for a UCLA game. It seems everywhere they go they hold a surprise rally the day before the game. Along with the dancing tree they had a group of girls called Dollies shaking pom-poms and asses. Each drum had those little tube lights people wear for necklaces wrapped around them. There were no cheesy feathered hats or polyester blend uniforms. Instead each musician was dressed in a style that can best be described as hobo-raver. A large crowd had formed, encircling this crowd of rowdy SUPER LOUD twenty-year-olds. Other people had cameras out, snapping pictures or filming the whole thing, lucky bastards; finding a girl that looked connected to the whole event I headed over with my lowly server note-pad and pen. Once she filled me in on what was happening the band starting playing “All Right Now” a favorite of mine. Unfortunately it was the their final song and once finished they split, running quickly away like lost ravers crashing from a bad pill. It was over and done faster then it had began.

One week before Halloween, I was treated to a glimpse of the impending zombie apocalypse I hope to see in 2012. The Sidewalk Cafe’ is open wide in the front and around the sides. There is nothing more between diners and the boardwalk than a solid iron fence. People can reach out or in with ease. On this particular night the  gloom of an unusually heavy marine layer cast a dull light on the walk as a slight moaning sound came from the dark. A woman gasped and yes a man stood up, other tables craned their necks to see what was up. I turned around and looked out the front of the cafe’ just as the first zombie appeared. He shuffled up followed by a group of about 40 other living dead. Clothes torn, blood squirting from open wounds, one woman’s eye  swinging back and forth as she gnashed at the hand of a diner. The whole group moaned and groaned as the truly committed zombies leaned down and snapped at one amused patron after another. Myself, I simply stopped everything I was doing and enjoyed the show. Soon they were gone along with a few bottles of ketchup and some fries. Nobody was missing any brain tissue, so everybody giggled and on went the normal boardwalk show.

These are the exceptional things that happen all the time. I haven’t even had a chance to touch on the dollhouse dancer. But he is a daily player in the show. I’m going to have to talk to him, get a name and maybe even snap a picture for you. But the first thing I must show you (if I can ever figure out my camera) is the sunset. That’s the real star. The sun setting on all of American steals the show every time.