I woke up early this morning to see the sunrise. I wasn’t going to take my camera today. This one was for me, and me alone. I know, it seems selfish to say that something as open and free as sunrise could be for me, but that is where I am right now, and i’m not apologizing for it. I quickly got dressed, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and a camp chair and set off for the beach.
I arrived at my favorite spot. It was still a half hour before sunrise, but that was my favorite time. It was always the most peaceful time on the beach. No one in sight and only the sound of the crashing waves to keep me company. It was also when the true beauty of the sunrise came about. The pre-dawn held all of the colors of royalty. Purples, blues, pinks and reds would dance across the horizon in their deepest hues. It lacked the majesty of the emperor sun, but the sun is always blinding and masks the dark beauty that is the morning sky.
I sat down cracked open the bottle of whiskey took a sip took of my shoes and dug my toes into the sand. I was ready for the light show. The pre-show was full of stars in the untainted sky. The full moon to my back ready to take its slumber behind the veil of the earth. The waves lapped at the shoreline as the first purple and blue hues broke the black of the nighttime sky. Another swig of whiskey was in order as the beginning of daylight marked the end of another night. The stars began to fade in the presence of this skies ruler. When you really watch a sunrise, and I mean really watch it, you notice the break between night and day. You can see the frontline of day as it tramples across the nighttime sky. The stars retreating waiting for their chance to reclaim the sky, and they always do. In a world where everything ends, it is the one constant. Most people will say that it is a metaphor for life. Every night ends and a a new day begins. That’s not the way I see it. It is a never ending cycle, that only ends when we do, at least in our eyes. The reality is that it will continue without us.
Half the bottle is already gone, and the sun hasn’t even broken the crease where the sky meets the water, but the view is the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen. From the water there is a bright patch of red that blends to pink and then purple, with blue the final color before the black and speckled white of the remaining night. Light wispy clouds dot the sky and catch the colors within them. the first pelicans take flight readying themselves for the early morning feast. Their silhouettes speed across a Van Gogh sky. One dove and an explosion of water erupted around it. It surfaced near it’s entrance shook it’s beak and swallowed it’s first morsel of breakfast. The rest did likewise finding a school of fish.
The clouds began to reflect a brilliant orange with hints of gold lining their edges. I could see the suns glow breaking the horizon and quickly gulped down what was left of the bottle. The burn in my stomach was reflecting the brilliant orb that was about to break the sky and rip open the day. I stood up and danced in the presence of my god. Raised hands yelping at his majesty. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “If I am to die on this day the night will be my legacy. I will make you proud of me.” and continued to dance, spinning like a crazed whirling dervish. Dropping down and springing up in fluid motions as I spun, until I found myself in the ocean. I splashed the water around me, swinging my arms in the air like a kid on his first trip to the beach. It was an awakening of something in me that had long since died. I was going to take this energy and I was going to rule this day. This is my day and nobody will take it from me. I turned to walk back and collect my things and saw a crowd had formed, they were lost in the confusion that was me, and I loved it. They parted as I walked to my things. Faces contorted with disgust. One elderly man spoke up as I past him. “What’s wrong with you boy?” “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with me, but I can tell by the look on your face, that there is plenty wrong with you.” I said as I walked by without even looking at him. I didn’t have to see his face, to know, I just knew, and it didn’t really matter. I picked up my things and strolled back to my car in a carefree strut.
It was time for breakfast, and not the liquid one that I’ve already enjoyed. There was a small dive up the street called the Sunrise Cafe, sounded like the perfect place to go.
I stepped through the front door, and was transported back to the 60’s. Formica counter and stainless steel amenities around. The cook was wearing a stained white t-shirt and a sailors cap, while the waitress wore a pink and white uniform that was everything you would expect from a soda fountain. The air was filled with the smell of bacon, runny eggs and hashbrowns. I sat at the counter and the waitress chirped with deep southern accent, “What’ll ya have sweety?”. “You know what, I think I’ll have two eggs sunny side up, four strips of bacon, grits a cup of coffee black, and a tall glass of OJ.”
It only took about ten minutes and the food came up. I ate the whites of the eggs with the bacon, saving the yokes for my grits. I don’t know why, but I’ve always eaten this way. Pop the yokes in the grits, stir it together and mow it all down. I finished the last of my coffee stood up pulled a hundred out of my pocket and placed on the counter. I could hear the waitress saying “thank ya sweety” and, “come again”. I waved as I walked out the door, with no intention of ever seeing this place again.
***
I burst through the front door of my apartment did a somersault and laid out on my back spread eagle staring at the ceiling. The ceiling has a popcorn finish with glitter mixed in, so that it looks like a night time sky, that is, if a night time sky were stark white.
I don’t know how long I laid there, but since the whiskey never took hold, I’d say it was time for another drink. I grabbed what was left of a bottle of vodka and a couple of misties. I knew that would set me right. Popped the little blue morphine pills and washed them down with a huge swig of vodka. I sat back in my E-Z chair and waited for the wave to wash over me.
As the misties took affect, it felt like I was sinking into the chair. the sheer joy of relaxation was upon me. I raised the bottle of vodka to take another drink and I watched as the bottle stretched from the arm of the chair to directly in front of me. Then without warning, like a rubber band released, it snapped back into it’s proper shape. I always got a laugh out of that. It really was amusing. I only had half a bottle so I chugged the rest down like it was water, and got up to shower and clean the beach off of me. I wonder how mad that waitress was when she found the puddle of sea water I left behind under that stool I sat in.
The water was steaming hot and burned my skin, but it felt good. It purified me for all the sins I am going to commit tonight. I figure I’ve already partook in gluttony, sloth, greed and pride, so I only had three more to go to hit the holy septem. I would not finish the night without achieving them all. I staggered my way out of the shower, the vodka and misties really doing their job. My legs wouldn’t move the way I wanted to, so I had to coax them with a little extra prodding of my mind. A thought crossed my mind, that I must look like a naked demented tin soldier, with my exaggerated steps, and I began to laugh.
***
After a few hours of trying to dress myself, which let me tell you, with limbs that don’t want to do as they are told, is near impossible, it was time for lunch. I was heading out to the swankiest place that I knew. That would be the Maison d’Avarice. I’ve only eaten there once, but it was extravagant, and that was the place that I needed tonight.
I walked through the thickly painted red doors and into a world of velvet and decadence. The Maitre d’ stood at his little podium that had a small brass desk lamp that illuminated a small reservation book. “Excuse me sir, do you have a reservation?” he was every bit what you would expect. Tall, thin, dressed in a finely fit suit, and a pencil thin mustachio. “I’m afraid I don’t, but I was hoping you could find a small booth for me.” I extended my hand to shake his, and deftly handed him a hundred dollar bill. He took a quick glance into the palm of his hand then swiftly put his prize in his pocket. “Oh, look here! We did have a cancellation for lunch at this precise time, and it happens to be a small booth. Please follow me sir.” I of course did as he asked, and just as he said, there was a quaint small booth off to one side. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily, but if you need anything in the mean time, please feel free to raise your hand and call me over.” “Thank you, I don’t believe I’ll need anything, but if the need arises, I will be sure to do just that.” He walked off with a nimble grace that only someone of his build could muster.
When my waiter arrived, I told him that there was no need for a menu. I wanted a bottle of his best red, a porterhouse steak, medium rare, with green beans, mashed potatoes, and cauliflower. “Yes sir, I appreciate a man who knows exactly what he wants.” Off he went, in a matter of seconds he returned with a bottle and a large wine glass. He was starting to explain the complexity of the wine, when I stopped him and said, “Just pour. I will defer to your good judgement sir.” It was remarkable, a fine red indeed. It was full of dark cherries, with slight hints of vanilla and oak. My steak arrived with the bottle nearly empty. “Do you have another bottle of this red?” “But of course sir.” He scurried off again, returning with another bottle. he quickly uncorked it and let it breathe on the table as I finished the first bottle. The steak was a remarkable mixture of sweetness and saltiness. It melted in my mouth as I took each bite. The potatoes were seasoned with black pepper and garlic. The green beans had a tangy vinegar taste, and the cauliflower and a buttery glaze that brought out every bit of it’s earthy flavor.
With my meal done, I sat back and finished off the second bottle of wine. I just stared at the tendrils of alcohol as it ran down the glass after each time I swirled the ruby liquid inside. I was lost in the glass when the waiter came up to the edge of the table. “Excuse me sir, but whenever you are ready.” He gently put down a small silver plate that held my bill in it. He began to turn and walk away. “Hold on there.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. He quickly turned back. I peeled off five C notes and handed them to him. “Will that cover it?” “Oh, yes sir, that will more than cover it. I will return with you change.” “Don’t bother. The service was impeccable, and if you feel that it is too much, than please pass a little on to the chef, for his fine cuisine.” “Thank you sir, and I will do just that.” I never did look at the bill. It didn’t matter. I walked past the Maitre d’ and handed him another hundred. “Thank you very much sir, please come again.” I waved my hand never looking back as I walked out the door. I won’t return.