Because a Sunset is Better With a Band
I didn't stray very far from my home base this weekend. Fortunately, I don't have to in order to have a good time (particularly advantageous for one with no car)! One of my favorite things to do these days is to spend Sunday afternoon at Allamanda Hotel on the boardwalk, just a stroll down the road.
A live band starts at 4p.m., just when the sun sits low enough in the sky so its heat becomes bearable (at least that's what most people say; personally, I'm never bothered...). Complete with bongos - and you know I love a bongo - drums, guitar, and sax, the smooth and sweet music attracts people from all walks of life. Locals prop up the bar, hotel guests fill the tables and chairs, and passerbys flood the boardwalk. "All R Welcome!" their inviting chalkboard sign declares.
I've been to Allamanda for Sunday evenings a few times now, and I swear, it just gets better and better. You can't beat the location - hello sand in my toes! - and the company makes a valiant effort at rivaling the view. When I wanted to talk with the boys, I talked with the boys. Then I meandered over to the kids' corner and played in their world for a bit, building castles in the sand. Grown-up time? Yes, I'll have another Banks thankyouverymuch.
I'm personally transfixed by sunsets, and last night's was magical. It was one of those sunsets where, about 20 minutes before it is due to set, the sun disappears behind a little cloud, outlining it with a crisp white-gold backlight, shooting out beams into the sky above, and then reappears as a big glowing orange ball for a few minutes before it dips below the horizon. I was in a zone watching it, one ear tuned to the mellifluous backdrop of the band, until Phil came running over exclaiming (a little late in the game), "WOW! Look at THAT!" I felt the urge to tap every person who was backing the sunset and politely let them know what was going on behind them.
And since the lime starts early, you manage to enjoy hours of fun and still make it home at a reasonable hour for a Sunday. Even with a follow-up act at Mojo.
P.S. Brian, I know you are grimacing at each grammatical error, so please, do share. Privately.
P.P.S. With me.