Sometimes conversations about the weather can be pretty interesting. I say this because over the weekend, my friend Stuey and I were discussing how beautiful the weather was and compared it to the earlier forecast.
What was supposed to be stormy and miserable was precisely the opposite, both days bringing temperatures in the mid-eighties, while prompting naked people all over the park to congregate near the pool, play outdoor games and enjoy the warmth of sunlight on every pore.
To those who missed out because they believe the weatherman, I ache for you.
What we have to remember about weather is it’s CLOUDS and WIND. These masses of water vapor and swirling currents are as predictable as I am. It’s like saying, “I’ll bet Mayo will come to the party later.”
Sure, it’s possible, and I even said I would. “Sure! I’ll see you later,” I’ll say as I run for the sanctity of my cabin.
Later that evening, I decide whether to continue working (watching Robocop) or get undressed and head out for the evening.
It’s a dance, an ever-changing current of chaos and confusion. I am the weather. I am a little teapot. Didn’t think I was going to say that, did you? That’s my point. Don’t forecast me.
Many of you are already aware that I’m a pretty accomplished science person and I can tell you with some assuredness, especially after beautiful weekend of beautiful weekend of naked fun, that it rained for about 7 minutes this weekend.
I don’t have a fancy radar and the only computer models I look at are wearing lingerie. My science is me standing where it’s currently supposed to be raining and it’s not.
Some question my methods, but I’m deadly accurate with my predictions of the present. I’m right at least 70% of the time. By meteorological standards, that’s pretty impressive. I’m hoping it will one day land me a job where I can stand on a beach while being pelted by hurricane force winds, for no other reason than to tell you I shouldn’t be standing there.
Then I’ll say things like, “It’s really picking up here, Jim. As you can see, there are big waves and if we pan up you can see dark clouds. It’s a storm, all right. This is what high wind looks like when it hits a person. Watch this. I can lean against it. Weeeeeee!!! Weeeeee!!!! How’s it looking in Ponte Vedra, Connie? I’m on TV!”
Most weekends I’ve been around, even those forecasted for days of rain or sporadic storms, during those times many people retreat to the indoor areas for food, or napping, or drinking then napping, maybe eating some more food, or perhaps taking a nap again.
Some people play Wii bowling, play cards, hang out in the indoor hot tub, sauna, take a shower, read… I don’t know… downtime, you know? We’re naked, not Terminators.
Personally, I love afternoon napping in a storm (or sunlight, or oxygen).
Lastly, being naked in the rain is one of the best things you can be while in the rain. If you’re going to be anywhere, a nudist park is the place to be. No wet clothes, no getting into dry clothes… I mean, your uniform is a towel, and coincidentally, exactly what you’ll need in the event of moisture accumulating on your skin.
So is there a point to all of this? Nope. Wait. There is. Hold on while I reread…
Right. Something about the weather bla bla bla.
So I can’t tell you what the weather is going to be like this weekend. I could look at the clouds today and try to determine what those clouds might look like or where they’ll be in a few days. Alternatively, I could roll with it, relax regardless of the weather, and work around it as it comes. Either way, I’m always right where I want to be.