BEAT IT ON THE BEACH
MON!
I went to Jamaica
on my first honeymoon several lives ago.
We went in June. It is very hot
in Jamaica in June, oppressively hot. There
is a reason no one has ever written a song titled “Jamaica in June.”
Anyway.
One way to
escape the oppressive heat was snorkeling.
While snorkeling, I spotted a conch.
I have always had a fascination with seashells. Some are incredibly beautiful. Most of the beauty is in the inside of the
shell, not visible to man or other beast unless the shell maker is evicted and
the shell turned pretty side up. There
is no apparent evolutionary reason for the inside of a seashell to be
beautiful. I look upon them as proof
there is a God and he creates beauty just for the sake of creating beauty.
Anyway.
I dove and
retrieved the shell, a conch shell, with a live conch still occupying his
beautiful home. I did not want the conch;
though I understand they are quite tasty, I only wanted the shell. I asked one of the locals who was working at
this resort how to get the conch out of the shell.
“You beat it on the beach Mon, beat
it on the beach.”
He then
demonstrated how to hold the shell, and slam it on the beach point first until
the conch inside would give up the shell…well die and could be extracted.
I went to
the hard part of the beach where the water had just receded, and did as I was told;
I beat the conch on the beach. I slammed
that shell into the beach again and again.
I would have quit if not for the local encouraging me to continue.
“That’s right Mon, beat it on the
beach, he’ll come out, just keep beating it on the beach”
After about
twenty minutes of slamming this damn thing against the beach the conch gave up
his shell. I pulled it out, and my new
Jamaican friend applauded.
“See Mon, I tol you…jes beat it on
the beach Mon!”
I kept my
prized find in the hotel room for several days before I noticed a stink. The conch was not completely out of the
shell, some of it had remained. It was
now stinking and the remnants were being feasted on by maggots. It took lots of hot water and some digging,
but finally the shell was clean and I could take my hard fought possession home.
Back at work
everyone wanted to know how my honeymoon vacation was. I related how it was too friggin hot, but
then bragged about diving for this beautiful conch shell.
One of the
guys at work, Lenny, was from Jamaica.
“Hey mon, was the conch still in de
shell?”
“Oh yeah, but one of the hotel guys
told me how to get him out. It wasn’t
easy, but I beat the shell on the beach for about twenty minutes and got most
of it out.”
“You beat it on the beach mon?”
“Yes, it was hard, but I finally got
it out.”
At this
point Lenny was bending over laughing.
“Mon…you beat it on the beach for
twenty minutes? Mon that dude was playing you.
Beat it on the beach!”
“What?”
“Mon, don no one beat the conch on
the beach…you drop that shell in boilin water…three minutes that conch he fall
right out nice an clean…beat it on the beach…oh mon…that dude mus still be
laughin!”
And that is
why I’ll never go back to Jamaica. The conch
shell? After two years in the sun the
colors all faded away.
It’s just
like Judge Judy says,
“Beauty
fades, dumb is forever!”


