One of the zones I regularly patrolled is simply called 'the beach'. At roll call the Sergeant would announce the officer(s) name and zone assignment. When my name came up his voice would drop and say 'the beach.' THE BEACH was generally considered a rookie zone since there was little in the way of criminal activity.
It had a Ritzy shopping area where old ladies would regularly lose their Cadillacs, jump to the conclusion it was stolen and call to report it as such. The officer would drive the baffled complainant around the area until the hiding car and its baffeled owner are reunited.
It had a strip of three to five star hotels with their pampered guests who thought they were in sugar sand heaven. A whole lot of expensive condos and homes, many of which had even fancier yachts parked out back.
And finally a few luxury marinas. The public beach went on for miles along the front of the variety of hotels, condos and homes, ending in a dead end point of protected land that was completely isolated and accessible only on foot.
This beach became infamous as a nude beach and 'hook up' heaven for nudists and the gay community. The word spread rapidly in the back of gay magazines circulating in the clubs all over the southeastern states. Any attempt to enforce the completely ignored public dress code laws quickly resulted in loud and raucous protests.
The cowardly reaction common among cities sharing this problem is to turn a blind eye. The myth
that it was an official 'nude' beach was perpetuated in the sunbathing community by their publications. The information even found it's way into European travel buochures.
The cowardly reaction common among cities sharing this problem is to turn a blind eye. The myth
that it was an official 'nude' beach was perpetuated in the sunbathing community by their publications. The information even found it's way into European travel buochures.
One day I was patrolling a lonely stretch of 'access' dirt road up into the nether lands of bun beach when I saw an arm waiving me down from behind a bush. I stopped to lend assistance and found, much to my amazement a young couple, Adam & Eve if you will, using a bush to cover the private parts of their complete nudity. They were from Germany and spoke little English. I gathered from my rudimentary German skills that they were on their honeymoon and selected our beach for it's European (nude) appeal.
They had walked up the public beach from their hotel, clothed and carrying their beach needs, lotion, hats, flip flops, soft drinks, towels, blanket, wallet, purse, money, passports,etc. When they arrived in the area secluded enough to meet their honeymoon needs, they set up camp, stripped down and began to frolic in the surf. They made love in the ocean and headed back to their 'stuff'. Only to discover all their 'stuff' was gone. Hence, they hid in the bushes until the answer to their problems drove up in a Polizeiwagen (police car but you knew that).
Lucky I had a Hiway blanket (the kind you put over corpses on the highway so the rubber neckers don't get a total thrill). I put them in the back seat with their blankie and drove them to the nearest thrift shop. I sized them up, went in and selected a nice Jimmy Buffet shirt and shorts for der junge Mann; (the young man) and a nice beachy style shift for die Seenymphe,(Sea nymph). Two pairs of flip flops and up to the register.
The clerk, somewhat bemused at a police officer shopping for luau outfits asked me about my purchase. When I told her about the blanke Deutsche im Aut, she just laughed and said, 'on the house'.
I delivered the haute couture to the much relieved couple who dressed quickly under their blanket. I took them back to their hotel. I'm guessing between the hotel concierge, the German Consulate and
ihre reiche Mamma und Vati, (rich parents) ~~~~they got home O.K.
I often wonder how that story is told over Christmas or Anniversary dinners; How a plan to have Sex on the Beach turned into getting Screwed at the Beach!
