OK, that's a b-lie. I'd been there once. It was in Camden. It was for Lollapalooza, the year of Pavement and Cyprus Hill. So I don't feel like that counts.
What I'm trying to say is that when Jeff, Bookie, and I made our way onto the Boardwalk in Wildwood, I had no idea what to expect...beyond what I'd read and seen on my favorite blog of all time, FourFour. Jeff and Bookie were hyping it up so much that I was expecting to see greatness. I wasn't disappointed.
On our way there, we passed by the following sign...
...clearly someone was trying to tell us something. And so, we attempted to call the number to find out who would pick up.
It only took us five minutes to realize that it wasn't a real number (Hi...P-R-A-Y-E-R only equals six digits).
After an extended moment in Jeff's former place of employment (the arcade/casino known as Gateway 26), we ventured out onto "America's Boardwalk" to enjoy the sights.
America's Boardwalk is apparently full of pregnant and scared women.
America's Boardwalk is also full of hidden political discourse.
America's Boardwalk doesn't care about the disabled.
America's Boardwalk is full of Cheese Whiz.
America's Boardwalk doesn't care for foreigners.
Girls love America's Boardwalk.
And last, but certainly not least...
...America's Boardwalk wants you to WATCH THE TRAM CAR PLEASE.
* * *
As we were wandering down America's Boardwalk, I was struck with a bit of inspiration. To memorialize this part of the road trip, we needed to get commemorative, custom air-brushed "East Infection 2008" t-shirts.
We wandered in and out of multiple T-Shirt shops, but all of the airbrushers appeared to have gone home for the night.
All except for Captain Airbrush.
We walked into the store just as Captain Airbrush was airbrushing a giant wave on a giant T-shirt. I was sold on Captain Airbrush as soon as I saw his hair. It consisted of at least four to five bright pastel colors. All various shades of pink, purple, and yellow. Clearly, the Captain was our man.
Once he finished his work on the wave, Captain Airbrush approached us and then patiently waited as we figured out the perfect layout for the perfect T-shirt. We settled on a cartoon jalopy surrounded by the words - "East Infection 2008." We told Captain Airbrush our plan and he barely raised an eyebrow. He looked off into the distance for a moment, as if he was lost deep in thought. When he finally returned to earth, he informed us that the shirts would cost us forty dollars and that we could pick them up tomorrow anytime after 4 pm.
Jeff explained that we had to leave town by one pm and that we needed the T-shirts tonight. Captain Airbrush explained that if we wanted the shirts tonight, we had to simplify our design. So much to Jeff's chagrin, we cut out the cartoon jalopy. Suddenly the price was now 25 dollars a shirt. And more importantly, our shirts would be ready in an hour.
We left Captain Airbrush to work his magic, buttwenty minutes later...we found ourselves drawn back in...just so we could watch the master at work.
It was all quite mesmerizing.
Once he finalized the t-shirts in some sort of giant press, Captain Airbrush packed up his latest pieces of artwork and handed them over to us. He explained that as long as we followed his instructions (wash in cold water only, air dry only)...these shirts would last forever.
So fifty years from now, when Jeff and I can barely remember the Cheese Whiz pizza, the political paintball setup, and the scared pregnant girls that populate America's Boardwalk...
...we'll still have Captain Airbrush.
No comments:
Post a Comment