The Blanket

I have a beach blanket; well, to be clear, it’s more of a moving blanket that has admirably served its purpose on the beach, the grass…pretty much anywhere it’s been needed over the last year and a half. Until last Monday.

Last Monday, my friend and I decided to attend one of the many free summer concerts on the schedule this season at Massapequa’s John J. Burns Park. While the forecast called for rain and possible thunderstorms later in the evening, the concert remained set to go off. We arrived early, set up the aforementioned blanket and a couple of chairs, and waited.

Light drizzle had begun to fall on and off at this point. Several local legislators appeared to make the obligatory introductions on stage and stated that, due to the impending storms, the show would begin a bit earlier than scheduled. Perfect.

Headliner Bret Michaels took the stage shortly after, and was greeted by an ecstatic crowd, most clutching their umbrellas in earnest, as the rain began to fall harder. About a half dozen songs in, the torrential downpour commenced. At that point, it became clear that, despite the best intentions, the show would simply not be able to go on. 

The house lights (or lampposts, as the case was) went up, the power to the jumbo screen was cut, and the crew desperately tried to cover the speakers and electronics as the mad dash to the parking lot began.

Ah, but there still remained the small matter of the blanket. The gigantic, now completely saturated, blanket, which now weighed approximately 50 lbs. as we attempted to roll it up and drag it to the parking lot – all the while trying to sidestep the massive mud puddles which had formed in a matter of minutes. 

As I contemplated chucking the entire thing into the nearest garbage pail, the absurdity of the whole scene suddenly struck me, and I became hysterical with laughter. “The next time they forecast ‘a chance’ of anything, let’s do ourselves a favor and leave the blanket in the trunk.”

As I write this, four days later, the blanket remains draped over my deck, drying in the afternoon sun. It’s still a bit damp.

 

{Published: July 23rd, 2014}

Jamie Lynn RyanComment