Clearly, we were a quartet of classless acts.
And if you’re going to have an act, you’ve got to have a name. In honor of the fact that we all suffered from a “Lack Of Breeding” (proving once again that birds of a trashy feather do indeed flock together), we christened ourselves the LOB Squad. We selected a mascot, the lobster, and several questionably conducted hours later (sorry, true LOBsters don’t transgress and tell) began our assault on the sleepy hamlet of Nags Head.
As the lead LOBster, I took it upon myself to set the tone for the weekend. Upon arrival at Deb’s beach house, I dashed to the third floor deck and proceeded to dance atop the picnic table. Sure, drunks do this all the time. But only those whose lineage is seriously suspect can strut their stuff sober. (Belated apologies to Deb’s husband for the stiletto scratches he was forced to sand, and thanks to her kids for returning my feather boa. Beats me how it got into the hot tub.)
After this, it was all downhill, which is how we LOBsters like it. I have a vague recollection of the four of us collecting sea shells after too much chardonnay, attempting to affix a gargantuan plastic lobster to the Excursion’s grill, and consuming at least our respective body weights in Bombay martinis and scallops soaked in garlic sauce.
At some point we got really crazy and took a whole bunch of pictures in which we actually all look good. To my mind this can only be credited to the amazing feats digital photography lets you perform in terms of erasing orange Doritos stains from the sides of people’s mouths. And Corona bottles from their hands. And the wall clock that mars the snapshot of somebody’s mom dealing blackjack by giving away the precise, pre-dawn time that Kodak moment was captured.
The only thing we didn’t do was get tattoos. We plan to when the four of us return for the Second Annual LOBster Fest in a few weeks. Or, I should say, they plan to. I finally got mine a month ago. It’s a beautiful yellow and orange butterfly on my right shoulder. I’m sure my virtually blue blooded better half would’ve preferred it someplace more discreet, like my inner ear, but I opted to wear it loud and proud.
