Free Falling Down the Bridge to the Santa Monica Pier - Paul

Free Falling Down the Bridge to the Santa Monica Pier

It was the Winter '78 and they came pounding on my door way early Saturday at 6 am. I'd been out late and was still a little, uh, 'fuzzy'. I cracked the door and saw one of Santa Monica's finest. "You are are under arrest. You are going the station now. Pay the bail or you will stay!" I forgotten to pay a damn traffic ticket. I said, "Without coffee?" but she smiled not.

Oh, man! I toss on clothes grumbling - that $328 was supposed to go toward the rent! No coffee? Grrr! OK! I'll go the the station and take care of this little problem, like I have a choice! I'm disheartened, angry at myself, frustrated and still a teensy bit buzzed. And no coffee?

I return home two hours later and strap on my racing skates to work out my frustrations - it's worked for me in the past. The bike path is almost empty on this foggy and cold Winter morn - a surreal sandscape as fogs part then thicken on my cloudy mind and body. I shiver as tiny droplets evaporate from my steaming skin. "Hey, I've never skated the bridge down to the Santa Monica Pier - I'll do it NOW! I'LL show THEM!"

Big man. Bigger mistake!

I 'jay-skate' quickly across Ocean Avenue and go under 'The Sign' to The Pier. Something inside me warns, "Gosh, am I sure I really wanna do this?" but it's too late to go slow and suddenly I'm in over my head going over the top like a greased rock, faster and faster, gravity propelling me down the multi-layered bumpy surface, my stomach flipping. I could get kilt just trying to keep upright! How many times have they attempted to patch this old thing? Instantly I'm flailing and hoofing it, dodging potholes, avoiding cars, large cracks and rocks. Semi-controlled my fast decent is unavoidable as rough surfaces constantly change from decrepit asphalt to variegated concrete as I try staying upright.

Finally reaching the bottom I now face new challenges and dodge pylons, logs and, uh ooh! - people, and I'm still at TOP SPEED! Finally I stop near Moby's Dock and take inventory; swollen brain and jangled body parts, breath steaming and gasping in the cold air, fingers and toes numb - at least I'm still in one piece! Well, sorta!

Surprise! I look up breathing heavily, damp with cold sweat in the chill. Early morning tourists have stopped and are staring at me with wide eyes, "Is that idiot crazy or just plain stupid?"

Well, I made it. Apparently! The frustrations were out of my system. The sweat dried and I warmed. Rent was paid eventually, and I still skate regularly - just not buzzed at break neck speeds Free Falling Down the Bridge to the Santa Monica Pier.

Oh. and I take care of the very very few moving violations I receive extremely quickly! - Paul