San Diego

            by Maya Tippett

 

       San Diego: a city of vast malls, burning sunrays, and crowded, crowded beaches.

Beaches full of beautiful, tan, impeccably tones bodies…

            I visit my dad’s side of the family in San Diego at least twice a year, and at least twice a year I am subject to unbearable humiliation. I don’t know what it is, but for some reason the town my Grandma lives in hates me. It doesn’t hate my sister, nor does it hate my mother. It hates me. And every time I’m forced onto the town’s unwelcoming streets, beaches, and movie theaters, I suffer an extremely painful “embarrassing moment” as my mother likes to call them.

            It’s a pity I cant seem to remember any of those peaceful, San Diego summer days spent lounging in the sand with my sister and my cousin. Oh wait, that’s right, I didn’t have any of those. My memory is clouded with tortured days of sunburned skin, despite the spf 65, sand in my bikini, and the horror of horrors the “embarrassing moments.”

            It was a horrible day like any other really… I was sitting in between my cousin Ashley and sister, Sam. They were passing potato chips back and forth, while I sipped on a soda. I was doing all right… I had my sunscreen on, I was protected by the shade of an umbrella, and I had remembered a pair of sunglasses. As I was innocently admiring some statuesque surfer boys, I made eye contact with one of them. I flipped my hair nonchalantly, when a wad of compounded sand hit the side of my face. God damn it. I winced, as I looked back to see that the cool surfer dude was now pointing and laughing at me with his buddies. Shit. I was already the whitest person on the beach (English people really shouldn’t be allowed outside in weather above 70 degrees) and now I had sand caked in my hair, and my sunglasses were crooked from the impact. Which one did it? Which idiotic family member blew my cover? I scanned the beach looking for the culprit, when another clot of sand hit my shoulder. And then I saw him. Uncle Steve. I should have known.

            I had no choice; I had to inflict some form of pain onto him. I charged, heading straight for my target, soda in hand – I was ready. Right when I was close enough to attack he did some fancy martial arts move, spun out of my line of fire, and swooped me over his shoulder. He was headed for the water. The next thing I can remember was being flung into the sea. My head hit an on-coming wave and I inhaled a shit load of salty water, as I was flung in spirals. The wave reached the shore with me tumbling in it. I lay on my stomach for a moment like a beached whale, trying to regain consciousness. It had all been fun and games up to this point, but now it had been taken too far.

            This next part I remember in slow motion.  I don’t really know why I did what I did next. I got up and began jumping up and down, my hands in the air above me, doing a victory dance, although I had won no victory. I looked over towards my sister and cousin who were laughing, so I started laughing too. Than I noticed the intensity of their laughter… well it really wasn’t all that funny, Uncle Steve’s thrown all of us in the ocean plenty of times… Then I saw the look of sheer horror on my youngest cousin Andy’s face, then the gaping mouth of my Grandma, my aunt slumped over in hysterics, the group of “cool surfer dudes” all pointing and laughing, some holding their bellies, a group of adults covering their children’s eyes, and pretty soon I noticed the whole section of the beach pointing and laughing. I literally had over what must have been a hundred people, pointing and laughing at me.

            I stood there all too long trying to figure out what the hell was so funny to all these people. Am I that bad of a dancer? I slowly stopped dancing. They were still laughing; in fact the laughter was getting more out of control. I looked back at my sister and cousin who were now running towards me with a beach towel spread open, only they weren’t moving very fast because they were laughing too hard.  Suddenly I felt a slight breeze. I glanced down, and then looked back up, staring into the faces of strangers. Wait I did not just see that. No. Impossible. I looked back down. Oh, yes. Yes I did just see that. My bikini top had come completely undone and was hanging tangled down my back.

            No matter how big (or how small in my case) a girl’s boobs are, this is one of our worst nightmares. Choosing the flight response I turned and ran back into the sea. I was up to m neck in water, safe and covered from the public eye, when I realized, everyone saw where I went. Everyone can still see me. Now they’re all just waiting for me to get out and walk the walk of shame back to my spot on the beach next to Grandma. Oh Jesus, I wanted to cry.

            I did the only thing I could do. I tied my top back to its proper position, and swam back to shore. And then I did it. I walked the walk of shame. Half way back to my towel, and I was feeling okay. This isn’t so bad… no one’s even going to remember this. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. My Grandma started the slow climactic clap that slowly builds until the whole beach was clapping for me as I finished my walk of shame. At this point things couldn’t have gotten any worse. I could either pack up and head home, and let them win, or I could stay. I could stay and show them whose boss. And that’s what I did… For about ten seconds. And then I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would let me, and as far away from that beach as I could.

 

My next visit to San Diego was no better. In fact, it was much worse.

My cousin Ashley was going through another one of her phases, she was obsessed with The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I never understood the interest. Kids in San Diego who were trying to go against the grain without turning to the oh so cliched rebellion of drugs and alcohol, were starting to “act” out The Rocky Horror Picture Show on stage while it played in the background. Teens and young adults from across San Diego were zipping up their finest leather and spraying on their strongest hairspray, in preparation for this wild event.

            Somehow, my sister and I were sucked into the unfortunate task of accompanying Ashley to the alleged event. It must have been about 11:00 o’clock at night, when we were standing in line waiting to buy tickets for the show. My sister and I stuck out like sore thumbs in our average jeans and common t-shirts, amongst the Rocky Horror freak fest attendees. Out of our trio, I was the youngest. That being said, I was also the one who got the end of the shit stick.

            I was standing behind my sister when a young man decked out in the tightest of leather, studs, and stilettos on his feet, approached our small group.

            “So, are you guys virgins?” He had the sleaziest of sleazed-out voices I have ever heard to this day. I thought to myself who in the hickory hay does this guy think he is? Asking us if we’re virgins… is that even a pick-up line? What a total loser.

  My sister smiled, placed her hand on her hip and nodded her head backwards as she replied, “She is.” I looked up from picking at my cuticles, (up to this point I was doing a pretty decent job of pretending I didn’t exist, but now my cover was blown.) At this time in my life I was probably the biggest push over you’d ever meet, and when it came to dealing with my sister I was a complete pansy.

            Before I could so much as pretend to stand up for myself, the stiletto-wearing freak show placed his hands on my cheek and neck and began writing what I could only assume were obscenities on my face with an overly flashy tone of red lipstick.

            “What’s it say?” I asked my sister and cousin as they started laughing when I turned to face them. They were too preoccupied with laughing in my face to be able to answer me, so I waited patiently for them to compose themselves.

            “Nothing. You just have two V’s on your cheeks…” My sister looked me in the eye. She had stopped laughing.

            “Yeah right Sam! What’s it really say?” I was starting to enter little sister freak out mode.

Sam placed her hands on my shoulders “Maya, honestly, I would tell you if it said anything. I would never let you walk around like a total idiot.”

I was a fool to trust her. I should have noticed the signs when I was walking into the theater. As I walked through the lobby various onlookers would start to point in my direction, whisper with their friends, and begin laughing.  At this point it would have been a smart idea to duck into the ladies’ bathroom and give myself a once over in the mirror. Unfortunately I am not a very smart girl, so I followed my sister and cousin to our seats.

The theatre was packed, so we ended up sitting close to the exit sign, which allowed me to calm down slightly. At least if something horrible happened I’d be the first one out of there. We must have been in our seats for about five minuets, when the show began. The lights dimmed and the curtains rose. A tall, rather skinny man approached the front of the stage, and peered out into the audience.

“May I have all the virgins please stand up?!” He yelled in the phoniest English accent I had ever heard. A lump rose in my throat as I sank in my seat. Not me, not me, not me…. Please? I had unwillingly agreed to accompany my cousin to this ridiculous show, but there was no way in hell I was going to sign on for some audience involvement bullshit.

No one in the theater stood up and it looked as though the man was going to give up. Just when I thought I was safe I heard a close voice yell out.

“We have one right here!” My sister grabbed my arm and pulled me to a standing position. “There’s a virgin right here!” My own fucking sister, my flesh and goddamn blood was selling me out. My face began to burn with rage. I wanted nothing more than to inflict serious pain on her. I briefly imagined the many ways I could make her beg for her life.

“Excellent!”  The “actor” onstage approached me and led me to my doom. Before I was completely taken hostage I exchanged one final look with my sister: The look of death. If I made it out of this alive I would make the rest of her life miserable.

 The man took me onstage and a spot light flicked on, blinding me. I couldn’t see the audience. Then a black cloth was wrapped around my eyes and I was spun around ten times. I was in a state of such horror and shock, I didn’t object. I didn’t know what to do.

The man then proceeded to whisper in my ear “Bend over.”

            For reasons still unknown to me I did. I bent over and awaited the shame that was to be shot my way. I stood there bent over for a good thirty seconds, when an uproar of belting laughter sang out from the audience. Savages!  I was crying in my head. I had reached the peak of utter humiliation, and I truly believe I blacked out for a few seconds.

            The blindfold was taken off and I was told I could return to my seat. I wanted to throw up. When I reached my spot next to my sister, the room was spinning. My sister and cousin were in hysterics and clips of them laughing at me that day on the beach began to run through my head.

            “Maya! That was sooo hilarious! Ohmigod! You just got ‘fake’ humped

onstage by a fat lady in leather! She had a whip and everything! Ohmigod I’m never letting you forget that!”

            “I fucking hate you.” I left the show and went to the bathroom, I stood over the toilet seat, but I couldn’t throw up. I went over to the sink to splash some water on my face and before I turned on the faucet, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The word “QUEEF” was written in capital letters on my forehead. I had forgotten that someone had vandalized my face earlier that evening. I washed my face and stayed in the bathroom until the show ended.

            I met my sister and cousin outside, where our Grandma was waiting for us in her car.

            “Did everyone have a good time?” My Grandma looked back at us from the front seat.

            “Yeah. I think Maya had an especially good time!” My sister began laughing in hysterics again, and I was digging my nails into my thigh.

            “Is that so? Oh well, Maya you’ll have to tell us all about it over breakfast tomorrow!”

             Although my cousin, sister, and I have grown up and matured a considerable amount since those days, every time I see them together, one of them bends over and the other one spanks her butt, and they both say:

            “We told you we’d NEVER let you forget that!”

San Diego… Not a place I would recommend to others.