DA HOOD HOUSE

Session 3 is over, and the remaining campers are a tired and ragged bunch, the last vestiges of the rabid throng that swarmed last night’s gear giveaway. It’s midday now, and a few rugrats lucky enough to stay for the in between are passing the afternoon by throwing pieces of the foam pit at each other. As the last airport shuttle rolls past the skate fun track and out the gates of “the funnest place on earth”, a strange silence enshrouds Windell’s campus. As unsettling as the empty halls of a school, this absence of noise means one thing: we, the faculty, are free! 
But where does a group of likeminded educators go when their pupils leave the nest? To the beach, naturally! With the ocean more than two hours away, we put the Pacific Coast on hold and head down the road to Brightwood Beach. To say it’s a beach is to glorify a sandy riverbank, and calling it sandy would be lending undue credit to a gravel patch. Either way, it is a perfect spot for those of age to consume adult beverages by the riverside, or for a Swedish hobbit to dine on Goetze caramels and two liter bottles of Mountain Dew. While the rest of us burn our pasty skin to a crisp, the Native Americans of da Hood House (K-Day and A.D.) scale a rocky bank a la Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans, jumping into the cold current. In spite of K-Day’s native blood, the sun seems to have gotten the best of his Irish skin as he now boasts a permanent wife beater burn. As the festivities at the beach dry up, we ghost back to the spot, shredding a gauntlet of biker cops on the way. 

-Liam Downey