Brighton Beach

Convince Dave to go to the beach with me on Friday afternoon in celebration of the summer Schedule. On train ride out he asks in tone which do not care for, Is it going to be Dirty at the beach? Tell him, Of course not. When we get to beach, weather perfect, sand uncrowded and very tidy. Am sorry to report that make long speech to Dave about how people often have the wrong impression about places that are frequented by Working People. We sit in stony silence until suggest that we go swimming. Own original argument undermined when as we are swimming, we run into what first seems to be a condom, but upon further examination turns out to only be a deflated balloon. Dave, says to me, Maybe you could admit that it isn't totally clean. Reply tartly in same tone and phrase used by the Contessa (last week when I expressed similar horror at a floating surgical glove)--At least it isn't a syringe. Dave says icily that No it isn't a syringe. See that we are at an impasse. After swim, arguement is forgotten and we bake in the sun. End trip with a visit to the Tatiana Cafe (on the boardwalk) where we drink several large and extremely refreshing beers and attempt to eat plate of pickled herring. Dave, utilizing Southern witticism, says, I've eaten pickled twice--the first and last time. All ire is forgotten and wonder (unfortunately likely not for the first or last time) why we bother to fight at all.