After 22 years, my family’s annual trek to the beach has gained a certain kind of routine.
My oldest sisters head down to the beach early to set out a cadre of chairs so we can reserve precious space on the sand.
One night, we meet at the boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach to all get on the bumper cars together and take out a year’s worth of frustrations.
And we all repair to our favorite games in the arcade most nights – a few on skeeball, a few on a game we have dubbed “Lucky Duck” and the rest scattered amongst claw machines and other games to entertain the younger set.
The two years before this trip, something else has helped maintain normalcy during beach week. I won the annual cornhole tournament those years along with John, my niece’s husband.
We looked to put together an unprecedented three-peat this year. I felt so confident, I even left my championship belt back in Hanover.
Either that or I’m absent-minded and didn’t even think about packing it. Take your choice.
When we got to Bethany, I had no idea when we would get a chance to defend our crown. Over the past few years, the number of organized activities has grown. This has led to a backlash of not planning when we do those activities until the last minute.
I have no problem with that mindset, actually. I don’t come on vacation to stick to a schedule. I knew that, by the time we went home, we would have played cornhole, gone to Rehoboth for the rides, enjoyed a crab feast and survived another house crawl. I didn’t really care which night I did each of those things.
After a little discussion while watching the Home Run Derby on Monday night, the group decided to play cornhole on Tuesday night. I immediately started to get myself into the proper mental state by checking to make sure we had enough beer in the fridge.
Only John and I knew who our partner would be until the draw was made 15 minutes before the tournament started. As defending champs, we got to stay together. Everyone else ended up with their names in a hat. My 2-year-old great niece did most of the work picking the names because no one could complain to her if they didn’t like their partner.
After an easy first-round victory, John and I took on my oldest nephew Mike and his partner in the second round. At some point during the game, Mike’s partner taunted me. His partner was my lovely wife.
Maria and Mike jumped to an early lead, but John and I got ourselves back together and closed the gap. Eventually, we went ahead. A crowd had gathered. Tension filled the air as John I I moved to within one point of victory.
Maria had the bags in her hand and someone encouraged her to make a big shot and score the winning points. The comment could have been misconstrued as an off-color remark, and Maria quickly replied with a deadpan, “that’s what she said.”
The crowd erupted in laughter, then she sank a cornhole, which put her and Mike in the lead. I couldn’t get the points I needed, and they won. The defending champs went out in a thriller.
I guess that’s OK. We still finished all our other activities. I just need to find that belt and send it to the new champs.
I want her to challenge you to a limbo contest to test this theory.
Dude, if ever I lost in a game of anything to my girlfriend I’d have to leave town…