What a Morning!

That's the thought I had while driving out to West Neck Marina in the wee hours this morning. Can't remember the last time I saw that much fog. Coupled with the fact I knew I was going to find a water level that was anything but conducive to holding today's scheduled bass tournament (one of my few birthday wishes), it made for a challenging trip.

If I hadn't made so many of these trips over that stretch of road during the past multiple decades, I would have sworn at times that I was lost in some kind of new dimension. It was eerie, barely being able to see the roadway in places. And then this sobering thought struck me: "What if I encounter some dude who was out all night partying but now is heading straight at me in all this 'soup'? Where am I gonna go?"

As it was, I nearly was driving blind. This sudden realization gave new importance to reaching West Neck and getting off any roadway as soon as possible.

Then, while standing there in the midst of all that fog at West Neck, talking to my friend, Wayne, and taking a look around at the surroundings, I saw a motion-detector light near the launch ramp suddenly come on and glow in the distance--for no apparent reason. It eventually went out, only to return for a second "spooky" showing moments later. This, incidentally, was the same light that, just moments earlier, had remained off when both Wayne and I had made separate trips around by the ramp in our vehicles to check the disheartening water level. You woulda thunk our vehicles would have activated the light, but no...not even a flicker.

And then, a bit later, I happened to glance up in the opposite direction and saw what appeared to be two huge arms extending skyward through all the fog. I might have really started freaking out at this point if not for the fact I realized this scene was being produced by a huge tree that I was only getting a partial view of in all the darkness.

Finally, about 5:30--the time Wayne had wanted to start the tournament--daylight began making its presence felt, and all the eeriness that had surrounded us seemed but a figment of my imagination. I have to say, however, that had it been Halloween, I very well might have been left muttering to myself at what I just had beheld the last two hours, as Wayne and I waited to make sure no tournament anglers showed up without getting an explanation that the event had been cancelled.

Based on what I just revealed, and the fact I'm now constrained to helping my wife take down curtains to wash, reckon maybe I'll remember this 78th birthday for a while to come--probably more so than if we had been able to hold the tournament. Such is life when you're living in a "Twilight Zone" of sorts.