One man's Wednesday on a school night...Douglas gets the gold

In Wyoming County, if you have out-of-town guests, you are required, by intergalactic hosting regulations, to take them to Niagara Falls. It would be appallingly negligible to deprive these visitors exposure to one of eighth natural wonders of the world. So you ignore the over-an-hour drive, you put up with the crowds, the traffic, the bad parking, and the touristy shtick and you go to Niagara Falls...again.

And it is magical.

Every time.

In San Diego, when Douglas has out-of-town guests (much more frequently than he ever imagined), he is required, by intergalactic hosting regulations, to take them to see the seals of La Jolla. Even if it is his first full week back to school AND a Wednesday. Even if it is 90 degrees and the traffic is bumper-to-bumper. Like a seasoned hunter, Douglas searched vigilantly for a parking space...spotting his quarry and pouncing...parallel parking like it was an Olympic event. Sydney and I exited the vehicle, took three steps to the cliff rail and gasped...Douglas had somehow managed to plant us directly in front of a pod of dolphins...plowing through the Pacific, gleaning their prey from the lush kelp forest. Sydney and I delighted in this almost-spiritual spectacle...staring, unblinkingly, at this miraculous moment as Douglas stifled a yawn, staring off at the horizon, pondering the hundreds of papers he had to grade.

We meandered down the winding walk-way, following the coastline...led by the siren's song of barking seals. Pelicans punctuated the sky as the sun began its slow but steady descent. Settling on the low concrete wall, we watched the drama of multiple story-lines unfold...naughty pups wandering too far from their watchful mothers...snoozing seals rudely awakened by playmates, a raucous version of "Marco Polo" suddenly interrupted when a lifeguard spotted the presence of an unwanted interloper:  "Pervert in the pool," shouted Seal Team 6 as frantic mothers evacuated their brood from the water.

Douglas heroically endured Sydney and me completely butchering the lyrics of Kenny Chesney's song, "When the sun goes down," as that shimmering gold medal slid seamlessly into its effervescent envelope, its slender ribbon still shining upon the dark water.

We stood, an ovation to dusk's denouement.

Never anticipating an encore.

As we strolled, sated by the splendor, Sydney noticed a small pavilion so we paused for one last look at the Pacific. Windmilling from the waves, two dolphins rose, snout-to-stern, to pinwheel back into the water. 

Somehow, Douglas managed to herd us back to the car. Eventually, he would plow through his pile of papers to grade. Never...would he realize the gift he'd given to his mother-in-law.