Escaping Reality

Chapter 30: Bronco Babe

I woke up a little while later buzzed and confused. How long had I been out I pondered to myself as I looked around scanning my surroundings? I shook off my fog and picked up the book on architecture that I had bought. I sat there flipping through the pages admiring the works of some of the most famous architects to walk this planet. It was cool to see the progression of the styling on both residential houses and commercial buildings. Someday I want to be able to afford a house that's featured in a book like this I thought to myself,

I got about halfway through the book when people started shouting at me.

"Hey, man can you throw us the ball!"

"Hey dude, guy, throw the ball back!"

I looked at my feet and tossed the ball back to the group of guys huddled around a Spikeball net. I looked around and realized that the beach had been transformed while I had been immersed in my book. There were Spikeball nets set up everywhere and an official Spikeball booth set up. There must be a tournament or something I thought.

My curious nature got the best of me and I jogged over to the tent to see what was going on. I was greeted by a middle-aged man decked out in Spikeball gear. He had the shirt, shorts, hat, everything. Wow someone was certainly reliving some of their lost childhood I thought silently.

"What can I do for you?" he asked me

"I'm new to the area and I'm just wondering what's going on here?" I responded

"Every Sunday we have Spikeball tournaments, all ages are welcome, we've had seven-year-olds compete and we've had seventy-year-olds compete. You wanna sign up? We can match you up with someone of similar skill set and get you going in about thirty minutes?" He pitched with a surprising amount of energy for a man his age.

"Sure, I got nothing better to do," I said, failing to match his enthusiasm.

Alright, awesome man, we're glad to have you as a part of the Spikeball family. You can just mess around at a net and you're be randomly paired up for your first game and then regrouped according to your skill level and performance. Sound good brother?"

"Yeah, man," I said back flatly, skeptical of the grown man's enthusiasm for a beach game.

This man is either getting paid a ton of money or has an unhealthy obsession with Spikeball I thought. I went over to a threesome who was practicing and asked if I could hit around with them. They were friendly and welcoming and I spent a couple of minutes relearning the game. I had seen some professional Spikeball videos on the internet and I was really hoping that I wouldn't be playing people of that caliber.

Roughly a half-hour later the guy who I had signed up with was standing on a podium yelling into a microphone organizing the initial practice round. I was paired with a 22-year-old who looked like he went to the local community college and vaped full time. Regardless of his appearance, he was a damn good Spikeball player. His usual slow and groggy movements seemed to be shed for quick and agile motions as soon as the game started. I realized that I was the weak link and tried to step my game up. We were playing a couple of dads who looked like they were on the other side of forty. They were drenched in sweat, panting, and smack-talking but they somehow managed to make it a close game. In the end, my 22-year-old vape buddy Trevor and I came out victorious 21-17.

I had worked up a little back sweat and realized once again that I was not in my best shape. We were all corralled back up and Spikeball man announced that teams had been decided and we would be playing in a single-elimination tournament. The winning team would have to win four games to take home the first-place prize.

Our first matchup was a mom and her thirteen-year-old son. I greeted them with a friendly handshake while Trevor just blew a giant vape cloud in their face. What a guy I thought.

"GAME ON!" Spikeball man yelled.

I don't think that Trevor or I expected the mother-son duo to be much of a threat but they were impressively good. They probably participate in every Sunday afternoon Spikeball tournament I thought trying to justify losing to a thirteen-year-old. The kid was short and squat and able to play the ball low where Trevor and I struggled to return. It was a good strategy but not enough. Trev dog and I took them out 21-14.

We were feeling pretty good and our next match up of a couple of high school juniors was pretty easy. Final score 21-16. We were one win away from making it to the finals. I don't know if Trevor had anxiety or something but the more we talked about possibly winning the more he sucked on his vape.

"Want a hit, man? It's gummy bear flavored juice!" He asked shoving the vape box in my face.

"Nah man I'm good," I said, eyeing the saliva covered mouthpiece.

Our next match was against two drunk dads who had determined that they no longer needed their shirts. Trevor and I looked at each other, at the guy's beer bellies and laughed, were these guys serious? That was the only laughing we did that round. We lost, badly, 9-21.

The guys were nice about it and one of them even hugged me saying that I reminded him of his son. He then went on to tell me all about his son who attended the University of Miami. He kept going, it didn't seem to phase him that I didn't really care. For some reason, he gave me his son's number and gave me another sweaty hug before stumbling over to the championship net.

Trevor walked away muttering something about hotboxing his car. I decided to stick around and watch the championship game. The bright yellow booth and a small crowd of people had attracted even more people and there was a decent crowd watching. The drunk dads were up against some college meatheads who had also both taken their shirts off.

I don't know if I've ever enjoyed watching a game of Spikeball more. Maybe it was the Coronas, I don't know, but the game was intense. The college kids were more athletic and skilled but the dads were tryhards, diving and leaping, and grunting. It was actually kind of comical. After well over thirty minutes of playing and some ridiculously long points, the dads somehow managed to come out victorious.

They were crowned by spike ball man and given a giant cup trophy which they proceeded to fill with beer and drink out of. The crowd went nuts, it was hilarious and with the music, in the background, it had almost turned into a mini beach party.

I packed my stuff up and sat on the curb waiting for my princess in shining armor. Five minutes later she pulled up in a vintage Ford Bronco that had been redone. The tires were beefy and had super aggressive rims. She got out of the car wearing an extra-long Justin Bieber tour shirt. The kind of oversized shirts that make it look like you're not wearing any pants. She smiled at me and opened my door for me cracking a joke.

"Looks like we both know who the real man is in this relationship"

"Mmmhhmmmm" I replied not wanting to satisfy her with a response.

"Somebody's had couple drinks today yeah," she said with a smirk, apparently detecting the smell of alcohol on my breath.

"Don't blame me, your Mom is the one who got me going" I responded as I sunk into the seat happy to be back in Lola's presence.