There are two docks down by the lake near my house. One is a low boat slip dock that sits about a foot above the water level and juts straight out about 15 feet from the shore. The other, which is about 50 feet from the boat slip dock, sits about 8 feet above the water level is used mostly for fishing. The fishing dock is in the shape of the letter “T” with a narrow walkway about 10 feet long, leading out into the water, to the larger platform area. Maxfield calls this “the bridge” because you have to walk over the water to the platform.
The other day, Max and I walked down to the lake to plunk stones. We do not skip stones because Max is only two and has not been able to get the arm movement down to actually skip stones across the surface of the water. As we approached the two docks I noticed a couple on the fishing dock, lying on top of a blanket, making out. They looked like a couple of teenagers enjoying a romantic picnic. I tired to steer Max to the boat slip dock but he wanted to go to the fishing dock.
“Bridge, Daddy.” He said pointing to the larger dock.
“No. Max. Let’s just over here.” I said trying to give the couple some privacy. Hell, I was a teenager once.
“Bridge, Daddy.” He said again and he headed to the fishing dock.
“Max, let’s go to the smaller dock.” I grabbed his hand and directed him towards the smaller structure trying to avoid an awkward moment.
“BRRRRIIIDDDDGGGE!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.
I looked over at the couple to see if they heard him. The girl broke off the lip lock and lifted herself to onto her one elbow and looked over towards us. We made eye contact. “Great.” I thought to myself. “She now thinks that I was staring at them and that I some type of a perv.”
Max freed his hand from mine and ran towards the larger dock. I hurried to catch up to him before he could walk down the entrance planks. The guy at the other end of the dock sat up and shook his head in frustration as the girl twisted and straightened her top.
“I’m sorry.” I called out to them. “We’ll only be a few minutes.” I said as we crossed the bridge and intruded upon their space. As I got closer I realized that the young couple were not teenagers but were actually in their mid-twenty’s. I did not feel so bad now. I mean teenagers need a place to be romantic. An Inspiration point so to say. But mid-twenty-some-things I think they should understand the risks of getting frisky in public.
Max threw some sticks into the lake as the young couple sat in silence waiting us out. Max lost interest after two minutes and wanted to head over to the little dock. As we walked back down the “bridge” I turned towards the couple and said, “Look I am really sorry about interrupting your, uh, romantic afternoon. I mean, I remember I used to have romantic afternoons too, but they led to him.” I pointed at Maxfield. “I don’t have romantic afternoons anymore.”