High Times at the Jersey Shore
Last Saturday afternoon, despite what the inane weather morons screamed at us all week, was a gorgeous day down the Jersey Shore. Hurricane Earl had provided some huge waves, but that was it. I had put on the sunscreen, drank my three Ensures, and was now staring down the various pills that I have to take every day since the docs discovered my cancer back in February.
At one point, about six weeks ago, I had been prescribed marinol. Now marinol is marijuana in pill form. Little brown pills that look like tiny little Milk Duds. The idea behind this pill was basically to give me the munchies and restore my appetite. Now, believe me, the 54 pounds that I have lost has not been due to a lack of appetite. Watching TV is a nightmare for me because every other commercial is for some food being presented in its most mouthwatering form. AND I WANT TO EAT IT ALL! [SIGNUP]
The problem is it all tastes like I’m eating cardboard. Nothing has any flavor. So, as a result, it’s an effort to even eat a single chicken finger. Each bite takes about five minutes to chew and has to be washed down with soda. IT’S ALL A GIANT DRAG AND I END UP EATING NOTHING.
But my doctor prescribed the marinol anyway because absolutely nothing else was working. Sort of thrown at me with a “What the hell, why not?” attitude. Well, I tried it and it did absolutely nothing. No buzz, no munchies.
But here it was six weeks later, Labor Day weekend, and it’s dawning on me that I have just gone the entire summer without having a drink or a single sandwhich. So I looked at the marinol pills and said, “What the hell?” and popped a couple. Well, I’m not sure if it was the fact that I had really only been up and hour, or that the sun was beating down on me on the beach, but I’ll tell you this much, THEY WORKED. About an hour after I got to the beach I was high. I mean seriously, Cheech-and-Chong high. Jeff Spicoli high. Brad Pitt from True Romance high. Remember, I had not had as much as a single beer since February 22nd. I DESERVED this buzz!
I was telling stupid jokes. Boogie boarding like a ten year old. I threw my crossword puzzle in the trash can realizing that only non-high sober people even bothered with the stupid things.
Then a truly amazing thing occurred. I really DID get the munchies. And I knew exactly what I desired. A BUTTERSCOTCH MILKSHAKE. There was an ice cream joint about four blocks down the beach and off I went.
I walk in and the ice cream section is in the back of the joint. There’s a girl who is about 16 behind the counter. I stride up, all high and goofy, and say to her, “Make my day and make me a butterscotch milkshake!” She responds that they don’t really make butterscotch milkshakes. I ask her if they have butterscotch syrup, which they do, and I tell her, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll talk you through it.” She is very nice and is up for the challenge.
Well, there’s something wrong with the machine and the whole thing takes about 10 minutes. No big deal. There’s a wall in the place with a collection of goofy tee shirts hangng. I’m reading them and giggling like a 15 year old. I also happen to overhear my girl behind the counter tell another worker that she’s going back to school tomorrow, and it appears that I might be her last customer of the summer.
Voila! The milkshake is done. She presents it to me for a taste test. I take the highly anticipated sip. “It’s awesome!” I proclaim, waking up people napping on the beach, I’m so loud. She’s thrilled. “That will be $4.47,” she says. I have a $20 bill in my hand. I look at her and think what the hell? I give her the 20 and exclaim, “Keep the change, have a nice fall.” The girl is thrilled.
Now mind you, I’m a good tipper. Always a minimum of 20 percent. But this was definitely the marinol working here. I have never tipped $15.53 on a $4.47 check. Never. Without a doubt it’s the biggest tip she has gotten all summer. I’m feeling pretty pretty pretty damn good about myself.
As I walk out of the place I take two more sips. It’s thick, like it should be, but my throat is gonna have a hard time getting this down without some help. So I turn back to the counter, and it’s the same girl. I say to her, “Hey, could I get a cup of water?”
And she says to me, AND SHE SAYS TO ME, “Sorry, sir, I can only sell you a bottled water.” I’m so high I let out a giant laugh. In fact, I’m laughing my ass off. The girl doesn’t know what to do. They have cups in the store. In fact, the milkshake is in a cup. I can understand them selling a bottled water to someone who walks in off the boardwalk and that’s all they want. Water. But to someone who has just bought lunch there or a hamburger or a milkshake? GIVE THEM THE GODDAMN CUP OF WATER! Not to mention I just gave this chick the tip of her life.
So here I was having this wonderful moment. Mr. Big Shot. The Most Interesting Man In The World. He who tips $15.53 on a $4.47 milkshake. And now it was ruined just like that. I was transformed into just another flip-flop wearing schlub.
But I chose to say nothing. Continuing to laugh, I walked out the screen door and back down on to the beach.
Watch those marinol pills.
It’s not too soon to get your tix for the next TWO FUNNY PHILLY GUYS show starring Joe Conklin and myself. It’s at the Borgata on Friday night, Sept. 24th at 9pm. Go to borgata.com for tix. DON’T MISS THIS SHOW! The legendary Bernie Parent is the host. Doing standup!
Saturday night, Oct 2nd, I’ll be at the Doylestown Comedy Cabaret above Poco’s on 611. I’ve been selling out this club for 20 years! Go to comedycabaret.com to get your tix!