Oh, vacation! Only during a vacation could I acquire the world's strangest sunburn on the first day, thus completely endangering any idea of fun, only to rally back the next day, in a scene of mass rowdiness better suited for a post-Stanley Cup victory riot than a family outing. Nevertheless, that is what happened, and this is my story.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, the idea probably made sense. It went a little something like this: "Okay, I just got here, I'll be staying for a few days, and I am notorious for improper reapplication of sunscreen. HOWEVER, if I don't spend 10 hours on the beach on the first day, I may as well go put my dress on now." Yes, it was foolhardy, but it could've worked had it not been for the Bullfrog.
A few years ago, my dad decided that due to my inherent pastiness, ordinary sunscreen was not enough. Instead, he insisted that I lather myself with something that I believe was originally devised for water-proofing the hulls of tugboats. However, this concoction was probably too nasty for even the stinky, drunk sailors of the world, so someone in marketing said, "Oh hell, just bottle that crap up, label it as industrial strength sunscreen, and call it Bullfrog." There is no other substance in the world that strikes fear into my heart like Bullfrog. I would rather douse myself with the devil's pee than apply Bullfrog. Nevertheless, it only takes one coat of the stuff to deflect bullets, so it does come in handy in combating the brutal South Texas sun.
Since it's nasty but effective, I can usually manage to grit my teeth through putting it on once. All bets are off on applying it again, though. Allow me to illustrate why. You're all salty and sandy and seaweedy from various aquatic ass-grabbery, then someone comes up and attempts to coat this layer of beach funk with a layer of goop that looks disturbingly similar to clear pancake syrup. Hey, why not just try to prevent sunburn by wearing a suit made of garbage and human refuse? If I had to make a choice between reapplying Bullfrog and eating a big bowl of mayonnaise with a rabid possum, I'd start putting on my bib immediately.
And so, at the midway point of our day of excessive beachitude, when I faced the grim prospect of putting on Bullfrog again, I gave myself the most half-assed sunscreen rub down ever. I knew I'd probably get a little burned, but I was ready to sacrifice. What I did not foresee was how weirdly and awkwardly I'd get burned. Looking at the burned pattern on my chest, it was like Jackson Pollock had been in charge of the sun tan lotion. When I awoke the next morning, one thing was very clear: I wasn't getting near the beach or the Bullfrog that day. No, we had to do something else. Luckily for us, the best something else of all was only an hour away.
Tomorrow: we hit the border town, I get an awesome hat, and Darth Vader's head falls off.
Posted by Cody at July 13, 2004 6:10 PM