BLADES III
CALIFORNIA DREAMING
(The autobiography of a rescue-helicopter pilot continues)
‘as told to’ J. William Turner
Copyright 2012 by (James) J. William Turner
Smashwords Edition
(Original version copyright 2004 by (James) J. William Turner
Finally gaining my helicopter-pilot licence had been the ultimate dream-come-true for me after all the loss and pain I had suffered. And then a flying holiday to Central Australia with my new journalist friend, Wesley Auld, had led me to find the remains of a missing baby taken by a dingo, to meet a truly special girl, and then rescue two of her brothers. So I travelled to Los Angeles, California, as a special guest of her parents. For two weeks during my September school holidays, I was to enjoy whatever hospitality they had to offer in return for the safe return of their two youngest sons. Never, in my wildest imaginings, could I have predicted the drama, danger and trauma that I was about to face.
Chapter One - Seeing the Sights
This story is fictional. Any similarity to historical events, or to any person, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional
Other works by J. William Turner:
Dangerous Days I (Storm Ridge)
Dangerous Days II (Paddle Hard)
Dangerous Days III (Outback Heroes)
Dangerous Days IV (Enemies Within)
Blades I (Street Kid)
Blades II (High Country)
Blades IV (Aftermath)
Fat To Fast
Jake’s Magical Easter Adventure
Saturday, 16 September 2000 – I looked out sleepily through the window beside my seat as the aircraft banked over the coastal city. Below me lay a vast suburban sprawl sandwiched between mountains and the sea that stretched to the horizon. The patchwork of buildings and maze of freeways shone brightly under the sunny cloudless sky. I glanced at my watch. The digital time display read 13:22 as Qantas Flight QF007 turned onto final approach for its landing on schedule at Los Angeles Airport. On my right arm, a second wristwatch set to Australian Eastern Standard Time displayed the numbers 07:22 17/09/00.
I had been airborne for thirteen and a half hours to cross the Pacific Ocean non-stop after the short connecting flight from Melbourne to Sydney. Between eating meals and watching a movie, I had spent most of the first six hours in the air revising the main sections of U.S. aviation law down-loaded from the Internet. I wanted to fly helicopters while in the U.S.A. since I would be living in Lakewood, close to the Long Beach Municipal Airport. Having woken up only two hours earlier after a five-hour snooze, I still felt some slight tiredness caused by such a long period of doing nothing, and having to sleep sitting-up.
“Is this what jetlag is like?” I asked myself. “It’s not so bad. I reckon I should be okay to sit the theory and flight tests within a couple of days.”
I decided the mild symptoms were due to a good sleep on Friday night after watching the live coverage of the Sydney Olympics’ opening ceremony on television. Now, as the ground came closer, my thoughts turned to the people who were to meet me. I expected a very warm greeting from Matt, Susan, and the boys. But it was Alison who was most on my mind. I had enjoyed swapping e-mails often with the whole family since their return home, and the news of Colin’s slow recovery had been most welcome. It was Alison’s messages, however, that I spent a lot of my time reading and replying to. Our feelings for each other were obviously shared, and with Alison back at school during the week, we would cherish what little time we could spend together over the next thirteen days.
The queue for non-U.S. citizens to clear Immigration and Customs was long, but moving fairly quickly. Three quarters of an hour after landing, the automatic exit doors to the public waiting area opened, and I walked out to be faced by a throng of people pressed against a security barrier. I was toting a small rucksack on my back and dragging a large two-wheeled suitcase behind me. Slowly, I walked along the line of faces towards the end of the barrier ten metres away. But after moving less than three metres, I heard a child ahead of me calling excitedly, “Jac! Jac! Over here!”
Dale’s shrill voice was unmistakable. I turned my eyes away from the crowd and looked forward in the direction of the noise. The little kid was standing at the edge of the restricted area, smiling, and waving happily. I grinned, waved in return, and quickened my pace. But when I was two metres away, Dale’s patience vanished, and he ran forward. When I bent over and lifted him up, a pair of small arms wrapped themselves tightly around the back of my neck, and legs around my hips. Dale was silent, content to let a big hug and a quick kiss speak his words of welcome. Finally, he released his grip, and I lowered him to the ground. Standing nearby, though, I saw only four other familiar smiling faces. Matt, Susan, Barry, and Alison waited their turn. It was Matt, his voice still full of gratitude, who spoke on the family’s behalf. “Welcome to America, Jac. Welcome to our home and to our family.”
His hug was brief, as was Susan’s and Barry’s. But Alison’s embrace lasted much, much longer. And when we parted, she stood beside me, her hand in mine. An emotional lump formed in my throat as I thanked them for having me, and that it was really good to see them all again. I gave Alison a special smile, and gently squeezed her hand, before commenting on Colin’s absence. Their smiles faded as I asked the question they had been expecting. Susan replied, while trying to stop herself from crying, that Colin had been taken to hospital the day before my arrival to be put on dialysis.
The bad news shocked me, and my pleasure changed to sadness. Their frequent e-mails had said he was slowly getting better. Alison muttered, almost bitterly, that the blood poisoning had damaged his kidneys. He had suffered another infection a couple of days previously, and …When she paused, unable to continue, Barry cut in. He said that Colin’s kidneys had stopped working properly, a condition the doctor said, called ‘Renal Failure’. He may even need a transplant. I sighed deeply, and asked to see him. Matt nodded. Colin, he said, was more upset about not being there to meet me with them than being on dialysis.
The hospital was in North Long Beach, which was next to Lakewood. It was only four kilometres from their house, so we could stop there on our way home. In fact, they had promised him an immediate visit by me already. It was a promise I was more that willing to keep for them.
In a sombre mood, I left the international terminal with my hosts to walk the three hundred metres to their parked car. I found the warm afternoon air and strong sun to be a welcome change from the cooler temperatures of Melbourne’s early spring. My heavy jeans and thick long-sleeved shirt were certainly different from the T-shirt and shorts worn by the others. The sound of jet aircraft landing and taking-off, plus the smell of kerosene, followed us across the car park. We stopped at the rear of a blue eight-seater Ford people mover. Matt unlocked and raised the hatch for me to load my luggage. He then invited me to sit in the front passenger seat. I would have preferred to sit with Alison, but I politely agreed. After heaving my large suitcase and rucksack into the baggage compartment, I walked along the left side of the vehicle. When I stopped beside the front door, Matt approached with a cheeky grin on his face. He held out the car keys, asked me if I was going to drive, and when had I obtained my licence?
“Huh?” I did not understand the humour at first. Then I remembered that American vehicles are left-hand drive. I declined his offer of the car keys, and the Cliffords laughed as I, who was also chuckling, walked to the passenger door on the other side. Matt drove us from the car park onto the access road that led away from the airport. Two kilometres further on, he entered the southbound lanes of the San Diego Freeway, where traffic was heavy as we cruised towards Long Beach. I looked with interest at as much of the passing scenery as I could. Los Angeles was very quickly becoming everything I thought it would be. The multi-lane freeways, pollution, streams of cars, and the sheer size of the place were mind-boggling during our slow crawl home. I had thought the same thing during final approach to the airport.
The twenty-five-kilometre journey lasted almost half an hour, and the time was three o’clock when we arrived at the medical centre in Lakewood. The dialysis unit was on the second floor. I stopped outside Colin’s room with a request to go in by myself first, if they didn’t mind. When Matt and Susan said that would be okay, I opened the door, entered, and said, “Hi, Col, how ya doing, mate?”
Colin was resting semi-upright on the bed, with tubes sticking out of his body attached to a large dialysis unit. But despite his weakness and discomfort, he broke into the broadest of grins when he saw me walk in. “Jac, you got here at last?”
“Yeah, and I didn’t have to bring any school work with me,” I chuckled, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Colin raised his arms to hug me as tightly and at least as long as Dale had at the airport, if not longer. When we parted, Colin gazed at me with that same look of gratitude and the same feelings of brotherly love that he had felt in the tent the morning after I’d found them. The boy really was so glad that I was finally there with him. He said that he thought about the mountains all the time, and how the cold and the rain came the day I found them. Before he was lost, he had two brothers, now he had three. He would always think of me like that.
Hearing Colin talk about his deepest, innermost feelings in such a way left me unable to speak for several seconds. Small tears of guilt filled my eyes as I looked at the sensitivity and affection showing in his. I told him that I had often thought about what it might be like to have a kid brother. But Colin nearly died because I didn’t wait for the SES rescue team and the doctor. They were right there, less than a minute away when I took-off. All I could say to him was, “I should’ve waited.”
With the understanding of an adult, Colin gently wrapped the skinny fingers of one hand around my wrist, massaged the skin with his fingertips and thumb, gazed back, and whispered, “You didn’t know, Jac. All you were thinking of was saving me. You’ve done nothing wrong; nothing at all.”
He was right, of course, but after they told me later how close the rescue team had been, I felt very guilty, and did so for a long time. Colin squeezed my wrist and told me again not to feel guilty. I ruffled his hair, and sighed, “Okay, you win, Little Brother.”
We both smiled when I called him that name as Colin’s family entered. He asked them if they were going to give me my surprise. His parents and siblings surrounded his bed as my curiosity grew. “Surprise?”
Yes, Matt said they did have a special surprise for me, and it involved helicopters. My eyes lit up when I heard the magic H-word. So Matt asked if I had been studying all the aviation rules that I had down loaded off the Internet. When I nodded and said I was more than ready to take a flight test, Matt told me about a family friend who managed the local radio station, KMAC. Her name was Joanne de Wit. It seems the pilot of their leased helicopter, who did traffic reports, was going on holiday for a week and a half, starting midday on the coming Monday. Joanne had agreed that if I passed the theory exam and a flight test on Monday morning…
“Yike!” I exclaimed quietly. “Matt, are you saying I can fly for the station?”
My excitement brought quiet laughs from the others. I was told that I could on the condition I passed both tests. I would then have to fly at least three hours per day, Monday to Friday. That meant an hour and a half in the morning, and again in the afternoon, maybe more if there was a big news story, but I couldn’t get paid because I lacked a Green Card (U.S. Work Permit). Well, I didn’t care about the money, I just wanted to fly. Matt chuckled and reminded me that I wouldn’t just be flying, but would have to give live-to-air traffic reports. That was the deal.
I came back down to earth with a big thud. I knew nothing about the Los Angeles freeway system, and they wanted me to talk on live radio. Either my reluctance showed or Matt guessed what I was thinking. He said for me not to worry, because Joanne would be giving me a good map of the city and all the freeways. Alison added that since everyone would love my accent, I should do it. I saw the expectant look on her face, as well as on those of the family. I knew there was just one answer I could give, so I smiled, glanced downwards briefly, shook my head, and sighed, “Okay, okay, count me in. I must be crazy.” (Subsequent events were to prove this last sentence to have a certain level of accuracy.)
Because of where we were, my agreement brought only quiet claps and cheers from the others. Susan added her support by saying that I really did have a nice voice.
We stayed with Colin for more than an hour until I yawned loudly. My body clock was still on Melbourne time, it being ten thirty in the morning, but my fatigue after the long international eastward flight was showing. The Cliffords had felt the same after their return from Australia. Susan decided I should have an early night, and we left the hospital to go home. But with the airport walking distance from their house, Matt made a brief detour. He stopped near a helipad, and pointed to a shiny Bell Jet Ranger painted a bright iridescent-red. “Get a load of that little baby, Jac. Pretty cool, eh?”
It was awesome more like it, and mine for the flying if I passed the tests. I glanced at him, a look of determination on my face, and said without hesitation that I would pass and be Pilot-in-Command of that aircraft. The sight of KMAC’s helicopter fired my senses, and took away my tiredness. I stared hard at the machine as Matt drove us away until it disappeared from view. Two minutes later, we entered a quiet sloping street lined with trees covered in leaves already changing to autumn colours. Matt then turned into their wide driveway. As I looked at the outside of the Clifford’s home, I thought to myself how much it was like the house on the old television series, ‘The Brady Bunch’. Matt activated the remote-controlled roll-a-door as we stopped, drove into the garage when it was fully open, and announced, “Well, Jac, here we are; home sweet home.”
While he was collecting my luggage, Susan unlocked the access door to the house from the garage. The spacious design inside their house impressed me as I walked through the living area. It was similar to the layout of my family’s house in Melbourne, and yet felt like it had more room. I was told that Matt had renovated the attic above their bedroom into a combined study and guest bedroom. That had been just before they flew out to Australia. It was to be my home while I was there, so Matt and the kids were to show me the way while Susan went to start dinner. As she left, Matt entered towing my suitcase. “The stairs are this way, Jac.”
I followed him up the two flights of stairs into the area directly under the roof. The telephone rang as we reached the door, and I heard Susan answer it. The attic room was comfortably furnished. It even had a window fitted. I looked out through the glass, over the tops of houses lower down the slope, to the airport boundary about a kilometre distant. Beyond it was a bright-red dot near the hangars. I smiled to myself as I gazed at the KMAC helicopter, clearly visible as it sat on its concrete pad. Alison asked me how I liked my new quarters compared to my room in Melbourne. I chuckled that it was much better due to a really great view. Alison and her brothers were surprised at first by my comment, until they looked out and saw the airport.
“Is that all you think about?” Barry scoffed in a teasing manner.
I quickly and carefully grabbed the much-smaller skinnier boy around the neck and pretended to punch him in the head. “No, it’s not all I think about, Bazza, you little smart aleck. I also think about fishing.”
He said, “What about girls?”
I cast a brief smirk at the others, who all seemed very amused by the exchange. I replied that I never thought about them.
“Yeah, as if,” Barry laughed as I released him.
Matt cut-in to say that when I had finished beating-up his cheeky eldest son, we were all to go downstairs, unless I wanted to unpack first. But I was in no hurry to empty my suitcase, so we headed down from the attic. On the first floor, Dale grabbed my arm to almost drag me through a nearby open door. “This is my room, and Colin’s.”
The bedroom of the two youngest Cliffords was furnished with bunk beds and a couple of desks. Its walls were covered in posters of cars, motor bikes, and baseball players I didn’t recognise. I glanced casually at the pictures and then at Dale. “Real nice place you’ve got here, little buddy, but this is awful, I can’t see any helicopters!”
Dale had a good sense of humour and laughed, “You’re funny.”
As we left the room, I stopped in the hallway to ask where everybody else slept. Alison pointed to the various rooms, and told me whose they were. I nodded as I took note of the doors, and we continued on back down to the ground floor, where Susan was in the kitchen. She had a tray of meat from the refrigerator in her hands when we walked in. While we were upstairs, her sister, Anne, had phoned to ask if I had arrived safely. Susan had invited her and her husband, George, around for a barbecue that evening.
“Anne and George are just dying to meet you,” she told me. “We’ll eat out the back on the patio, so you and the kids jump in the pool until they arrive.”
The chance of a cool swim on a hot afternoon was too good for any of us to refuse. We headed back upstairs to get changed. Barry and Dale were already in the water when Alison and I walked outside. Alison was carrying her towel folded in her hand, but mine was draped loose around my shoulders and down my back, covering the burnt area. I dropped the towel on a chair and dived in at the far end. I was told, later, how the two boys had stared wide-eyed at my scars as I entered the pool. They had never seen a person with skin grafts before. Barry was especially in awe, aware that I had been about his age during the weeks spent in hospital. It was also the first time for Alison, but her maturity and compassion for what I had experienced made for a more-reserved response. She cast furtive glances at my back and shoulders, and then at her eldest brother. She remembered seeing Wesley’s pictures of me on fire. She had also been horrified, as she thought of Barry in the same situation. It had been hard enough for Alison to watch Colin’s fight for life in Australia. That was before his emergency repatriation home as soon as he was well enough to fly. But after seeing my scars, she could not imagine anything so terrible happening to a member of her own family.
From inside the house, unseen by we swimmers, Matt and Susan also looked at the marks on the back of their very special guest. Standing by the window, hand-in-hand, they silently gave thanks that none of their children had suffered such an injury. She whispered to Matt about what I must have gone through alone, without a mother or father, or any real family to be there for me. Matt leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and agreed. After knowing me, if Colin’s illness were the worst thing that happened to any of his kids, he wouldn’t complain. He was just hoping that I might be a positive influence on Barry while I was there, as the boy was in puberty. Matt reckoned he could do with a big brother in his life, especially one like me. Susan nodded to herself, but also thought about Alison. She had seen how close we were at the airport, and the way Alison looked at me. Our feelings were very strong. She felt that the two of them both needed to be careful when it came to us.
Matt, though, hadn’t felt as concerned. He knew that I knew I was a guest in their house. Matt was confident that I wouldn’t try anything with Alison. Admittedly, the thought had crossed my mind, briefly, as I was yet to lose my virginity. But Susan hadn’t forgotten the fact that I was still a mature seventeen-year-old boy full of all the normal urges and she asked Matt what he was like at that age. Her husband took the point and agreed to have a quiet word with me, while Susan did the same thing with Alison. But, in the end, Matt knew that all they could really do was trust us.
We were still in the pool when Anne and George arrived about an hour later. I knew they had seen my back as I emerged from the water, but said nothing about it when introduced. And as a holder of a private aeroplane licence, George was more interested to talk to me about flying, especially in Australia. Except for when we were eating dinner, we two pilots spent most of the next hour sitting together for a bit of so-called ‘Hangar Flying’, comparing notes, one might call it. We sure had a lot to talk about.
For some of this time, Matt had eavesdropped from nearby. He became impressed by the nature of the technical details that a youth of my age was able to discuss with another adult. This was in addition to my own personal experiences as a teenager. The more he heard, the more he came to understand my psyche. To Matt, as a senior military officer in command of young marines, some fresh from high school, knowledge of that sort was always important. And in coming to know me, it also helped explain in his mind how the seemingly impossible had come about, the safe return of his sons by such a young person in such trying circumstances. It had been difficult for Susan and him to grasp fully the concept of a journalist financing the cost for a teenager to fly a helicopter to a remote location deep within a mountainous area in search of two missing children, all based on that teenager’s hunch. But as he listened-in, he came to appreciate, as a leader of other young men, the hidden gifts and talents that he felt I possessed, but was yet to discover. Perhaps, given time and the right circumstances, Matt hoped in a fatherly way that I would realise my full potential, and exactly what I was capable of achieving. What happened on the following weekend is a good example, but one totally unexpected.
The time was ten past eight when Anne and George said their farewells and departed. I gave a long yawn as they drove away, and stretched my arms in the air. Susan looked at me, my blood-shot eyes betraying fatigue, and told me to have an early night while they just went back to see Colin. I had felt my tiredness increasing by the minute towards the end of my hangar flying with George, so nodded sleepily, and asked Susan to say goodnight to Colin for me.
As the others said “Goodnight” in return, I headed upstairs to the attic. My suitcase was partially unpacked from when I had searched for my board shorts to go swimming in the pool. These were now long-since dry, so I swapped them for a pair of boxer shorts. I then quickly finished unpacking, placed the empty case on the floor of the wardrobe, and climbed into bed. But my mind wanted me to stay awake at first. My body clock was still much closer to Melbourne-time, which was mid-afternoon. Finally, though, I won the battle and dozed off.
Sunday, 17 September 2000 - The loud drone of a large aeroplane departing from Long Beach airport to pass low over the house woke me up at nine o’clock. I felt good after sleeping for twelve hours, and any symptoms of jetlag the previous day were gone.
There were very few clouds in the hazy sky when I looked out of the window. Wearing only a T-shirt and baggy cargo shorts, I went downstairs to find the Cliffords eating breakfast, dressed in quite formal attire. The day being Sunday, they were all going to their regular church service at ten o’clock. I was welcome to join them, stay at home, or be dropped off at the hospital. To me, the choice was obvious. I really wanted to spend more time with Colin. So I took my seat next to Alison, helped myself to cereal, and inquired about the plans for the afternoon. Susan replied by saying that Alison had a surprise for me.
“What, another surprise?” I smiled with curiosity at Alison, who smiled in return. She had passed her driving licence the previous week a few days after her sixteenth birthday. Susan had given permission for just the two of us to go for a drive in her car up to Venice Beach. How cool was that?
Since I may be too busy flying the KMAC helicopter later on, I was really pleased that I could be alone with Alison so early in my visit. Like any little boy, Dale begged to come as well. It was a request that Alison denied, and to which Barry added bluntly that she and I wouldn’t want a kid tagging along, would I?
I saw the smirk on the other boy’s face, and knew what he was implying, but I ignored it in favour of a more diplomatic response. I said there would be plenty of time for us to do things together.
“I hope so.” Dale had a mild case of the sulks as he finished eating.
Thirty minutes later, we were in the Ford heading for the medical centre. They dropped me at the main entrance and continued on to their church for the weekly hour-long service. I quickly made my way up to Colin’s room. Whilst there, I developed this feeling, how there was something different about him compared to his brothers that was quite unrelated to his illness. It was a feeling that I was unable to make sense of at the time.
We spent the next hour and a half pleasantly hanging-out until the family returned. As they arrived, his treating doctor entered with the good news that Colin could rest quietly at home for a few hours, but must return after supper. The announcement brought some relief and excitement as a nurse unclipped the dialysis-machine’s tubes from the tubes in his body. But Colin was still weak and in need of help to move from the bed into a wheelchair. As I watched, I remembered my own weakness when I was released from the Burns Unit. I had been in there for so long, and it required much effort for me to walk with Arthur to a general ward. Four years had passed, but it still seemed like only yesterday, the memory was that clear. So I knew that Colin would be content to rest quietly in the familiar surroundings of his home with his parents and brothers for company. He would not mind if his sister and I were absent for the afternoon.
A nurse wheeled Colin out to the car park and we returned home for lunch. Alison and I ate quickly so as to have as much time together that afternoon. By one o’clock, we were in the garage ready to leave. Then Matt came out and said that Susan wanted to talk to Alison before we left. Alison shrugged, “Sure, Dad,” and went back into the house. When she was gone, Matt said the talk that Susan and Alison were going to have was the same as the one that he wanted to have with me. I was puzzled by where he was heading with this, and asked if anything was wrong. He replied that nothing was wrong, at least not at that time, anyway.
After a pause, he said that I was a fine young man, and they were aware of Alison’s very strong feelings for me. They were feelings she had never had for another boy. It was fair to say that I was her first real love. But as she had only just turned sixteen, the way I treated Alison would have a big affect on her for a long time. Matt realised that it was natural for Alison and me to want private time together. He was young once, and he remembered. But he wanted me to remember that, as the older more-mature one in our relationship, I had a responsibility to do the right thing. It was a responsibility not just to Alison, but to them and to myself. He and Susan trusted me to be alone with their only daughter, who was a moral and decent girl. All they asked in return was that I didn’t betray that trust.
I now understood what was on the mind of my host. I assured Matt that I would do the right thing, and not do anything to hurt Alison. I pointed out that at the start of the year, a girl in my class at school had become pregnant after going with another boy in the class who was a bit of a jerk. It really messed up her life, and she had to drop out. I said that I wouldn’t let that happen to Alison or any other girl. Matt seemed satisfied with my response, but he gave me a reminder that doing the right thing was also about honesty and respect. At that moment, Alison and Susan came out. Her parents wished us a fun afternoon at Venice Beach as we climbed into Susan’s little yellow Honda. Alison started the engine, backed from the garage onto the street and drove away.
Alone at last, she turned her eyes in my direction. I could see she was quite annoyed. “Mom just had a big talk to me about us. Did my dad do the same thing with you?”
I told her that he had, and that I reckoned it was fair enough. But Alison thought it was embarrassing, like they didn’t trust us. I reached out and took hold of her hand. “They’re your mum and dad, Ali. Worrying is what parents do, and at least yours aren’t dead, so give them a break, ay?”
My support for Matt and Susan, and the reminder that I was an orphan, stopped Alison from complaining any more. I figured that she didn’t agree with me, but also didn’t want a minor argument to ruin our first outing together, and let the matter drop.
Venice Beach was just north of Los Angeles Airport, making for a thirty-kilometre drive back along the San Diego Freeway. As traffic was lighter than it had been for the journey home on the previous afternoon, we made good time, and soon reached the exit to Venice Boulevard which led three kilometres directly to the beach. Alison swung right onto the off-ramp, and turned right again at Venice Boulevard. We then crossed the main Pacific Coast Highway and continued on for the final few-hundred metres to Venice Beach.
The high early-afternoon sun was quite strong as it reflected brightly from the ripples on the surface of the blue sea. I stepped from the air-conditioned comfort of the Honda when Alison had parked. Having come from a winter climate only two days earlier, I really felt the blast of heat in my face coming up off the bitumen. But I soon got used to it, and we set off to check out the area. Eight hundred metres to the south, Venice Pier protruded half a kilometre out into the sea. We were tempted to head straight for it, but with the whole afternoon to ourselves, we chose to head north instead.
We stepped onto the boardwalk and set off past the line of lifeguard towers towards Santa Monica. Walking slowly, we held hands at first. Later, we each put an arm around the other’s waist. Strolling quietly along the kilometre-and-a-half stretch of the boardwalk, we looked with curiosity and amusement at the kaleidoscope of colourful characters out-and-about at the beach that afternoon. Bikini-clad girls and topless guys sped past us on roller blades and unicycles. We stopped briefly to marvel at a talented dread-locked juggler tossing a range of items. These included eggs, knives, stuffed animals, flaming torches, a bowling ball, and a chainsaw. Further up, a bald black tattoo artist demonstrated his trade on brave customers with a variety of animals and monsters. He called out when he saw us watching from nearby. The guy asked if we wanted one each costing only ten dollars for the two of us. I smiled and waved my hand to reject the offer. “No thanks, mate. I’ve got enough marks on me already.”
The precise drawl of my Northern Territory accent sent the tattooist into a spin. “Dude, I like the way you talk. Where you from, man?”
I told him Australia, and he said, “Yo, Aussie. Come here ‘mite’, and I’ll give you a freebie, a small one, if that’s cool.”
All my friends back home had told me before I left that Aussies were popular in the States, and I guess they were right. I looked down at Alison and she giggled, “A small one would be really cute.”
I shrugged and approached the man. “Call me, Jac. What’s your name?”
The artist grinned as he sorted his equipment. “I’m Ink Man, Jac. What’ll it be?”
After thinking briefly, I leaned over and whispered to Ink Man, who smiled again and said, “Your chick’s gonna flip.”
By now, I had lowered the elastic waistband of my shorts for the tattooist set to work with his battery-powered vibrating needle at the top and on the outside of my right buttock. I winced at the discomfort, while Alison stared with surprise and then delight as the two-centimetre-long design quickly took shape. It was the outline, in green, of a boomerang with her name in capital letters inside. She kissed me on the cheek, of my face, that is, and exclaimed with excitement, “Ah, Jac, that is so cool!”
I twisted my head around to look down under my arm as Ink Man wiped away the last of the dye and blood. I said that I supposed it was cool, but not to tell her family. Alison was still giggling. “Sure, it can be our secret.”
Overhead, rays from the bright sun were still quite hot. Venice Pier, two kilometres away, was our next destination. With arms around each other once more, we began our return journey. And, once more, the passing parade of freaks, oddballs, and long-haired new-age hippies continued without a break. Alison’s kid brothers had been right. The place did have a lot of feral characters hanging out there. They were much freakier and amusing than anything I saw in Mordialloc whilst a street kid. I half-expected to see the cast of the TV series, Baywatch, clad in red bathers, come running up the beach in slow motion. Alison squeezed my waist, and said, “Yeah, Jac, there sure are some crazies around here.”