Meeting the neighbors

I trudged downstairs after my workout and searched out Scott, who was sitting in the den with a strange look on his face. He said “I know this sounds weird but the door bell rang and when I opened it a woman in a bikini was running toward the driveway”.  Naturally, I asked about the quantity of scotch that he may have imbibed during my absence. He appeared quite confused. In response to my questions, he could only iterate that she was running towards the neighbors’ trees, had a nice figure and hadn’t stood at the front door long enough for his arrival. Neither one of us knew what to make of the event. As I walked to my dressing room, though, I looked out the window and saw red flashing lights next door. Calling Scott to come look, we both realized that the neighbor was in trouble and had needed help. 

We both raced to the neighbor’s home to see if there was anything we could do to help. I put on a light raincoat to cover my shorts and sports bra while Scott undoubtedly ran towards the bikini. All manner of madness was taking place: the fire trucks were alit, the coast guard boat had arrived, various generations of women were pacing and crying at the back patio. A young man with down’s syndrome was smiling at all the attention, while another equally young pony tailed teenager was scrolling through her cell phone, completely oblivious to the drama whirling around her. 

Apparently the 30 year old son, or nephew, I wasn’t clear on his lineage, had put on his wet suit, dove off the dock and never returned. There were theories that the strong tide had taken him out, or that he had a debilitating cramp. Scott dispelled the tide theory; there is no tide here, not to mention that the entire cove is about three feet deep at high tide. The guy could just stand up if he felt a cramp. Nothing nefarious could possibly happen in these waters. The cove is famous for its peaceful tranquility.  Pleasure boats dock in these waters all summer for just that reason. Nonetheless, dad went out in a kayak when they learned that Scott’s boat engine wasn’t working. I hugged and comforted the 91 year old grandmother, while Scott talked with the volunteer firemen. The bikini had taken her car and was driving around the area, presumably looking for, dunno, a body, albeit none of the public roads are located near any of the local waters.  

Somewhere in this madness the subject (or is it object?), of all this search and rescue, appeared. Apparently the waters were too shallow, he was done with diving, had returned, removed his wet suit, took a shower and spent some time in his room playing with his cell phone. Evidently no one had seen him return and he hadn’t thought anything of it either. When he noticed the red flashing lights he came downstairs to find out what was going on. Discovering that he was the object (or is it subject) of all this attention, he dispelled the notion that he had drowned. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop everyone from yelling at him, angry, tearful and grateful at the same time. Scott and I, realizing that all was well, removed ourselves from this family drama and came home. Anyway, this is a long way to say that we met the neighbors.