THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 10, 1994 TAG: 9407080277
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 03 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Long : 132 lines
Wednesday, June 29
12:30 p.m. - Farm Fresh on Great Neck Road.
Two senior citizens stand scrutinizing the packs of poultry in the meat counter.
``What do you think of this chicken?'' one shopper asks her friend.
Leaning toward cuts that read $6 and up, her friend answers, ``Nooo, my dog prefers skinless breasts.''
As one of the employees discretely, but obviously enough, widens her eyes to the comment, the customer laughs. ``Does this sound shocking to you? It's just my dog and I now, and we always eat the same meal together at night.''
``No, nothing shocks me,'' she answers. ``One customer came in and bought fresh tuna for her cat when it was sick and lots of people buy good cuts of beef for their dogs. And if you always eat together at night, why not?''
The two women continue shopping, making a quicker pass down the pet food aisle than they had at the meat department.
- Marlene Ford
7:40 p.m. - Farm Fresh on Holland Road.
A young man, his sister and her best friend scope out the beer aisle, searching for the perfect case of brew. A crab cookout is in the evening's plans and BYOB is in full effect.
While the fellow and the best friend argue about which brand to buy, the bored red-haired sister wanders around the aisle. She finds a towering black wire stand filled to the top with plastic balls, so she scoops one out to bounce.
Dressed in a pair of flattering short shorts and a blue jean top, the petite young lady dribbles around the stand, shoots the blue and white swirled ball and misses.
Realizing that even in the grocery store she's still too short for basketball, she picks up the ball to return it to the display. But instead of standing by and dropping it in, she goes for a slam dunk and scores.
``I love it,'' says a middle-aged stranger, who is walking by with her family. ``You go girl!''
- Holly Wester
Thursday, June 30
10:15 a.m. - Dam Neck.
Two women inside the Navy Federal Credit Union are sympathizing with soon-to-be parched Chesapeake residents. The city has begun mandatory water restrictions.
``We've been on it for about six years,'' says one teller.
``No,'' says her colleague. ``Just about three years.''
``Feels like forever,'' says the first woman.
- Krys Stefansky
Sunday, July 3
11:05 a.m. - Cooke Elementary School playground facing Mediterannean Avenue.
The sun beats down on the patch of concrete in the playground as the heat and humidity build toward another collar-wilting day.
Alone on the slab is a young man on rollerblades, wearing a loose, dark jersey, elbow and knee pads. He also wears a pair of thick, padded gloves that come midway up to his elbow.
He clutches an ice hockey stick and is crouched over a puck. Suddenly, he springs into action, taking a swipe at the puck against an imaginary foe.
Apparently feeling that he bested the unseen opponent, he places the puck in front of his skates again and crouches, ready for another burst of action.
- Bill Reed
2:45 p.m. - The beach at 56th Street.
Two women are walking to the beach, blanket and chair in hand, despite the ominous-looking dark clouds overhead. They get to the crowded beach, find a spot and spread out their stuff.
``Ahh,'' says the tall one, lying back on the blanket. ``It feels good to relax and just do nothing.''
After about 10 minutes the women notice a steady stream of people packing up their things and leaving. The clouds are darkening and a few bolts of lightning flash in the distance. Drops of rain start falling erratically but the two women stay in their places, despite the now-mass exodus of beachgoers.
``I don't know about you, but I don't feel a need to leave,'' says the shorter woman, sitting in the chair. ``I actually like lying out in the rain.''
``Yeah, me, too,'' agrees her friend. ``It's not down-pouring or anything, at least.''
Just then a cool blast of air surges across the sand, whipping the blanket around her shoulders. The wind becomes stronger, as does the rain, prompting the women to look at each other and laugh.
``Oh well, it was fun while it lasted,'' the tall one says as they leave.
- Pam Starr
Sunday, July 3
7:50 p.m. - Toll road, Rosemont Road exit.
Drivers can be seen fishing for loose change as they wait to exit. The reason quickly becomes obvious - a police officer is standing between the two toll baskets.
One woman rolls down her window, throws a dime in the basket and waits for the green light. When the light stays red she looks at the officer with concern. He smiles and waves her through.
``It's not working,'' he mouths to her.
- Pam Starr
Tuesday, July 5
1:20 a.m. - Lynnhaven Parkway.
After a night filled with fireworks and fun, a young lady in a red sports car heads home. Instead of taking the regular route, she makes a detour to stop by her favorite late night eatery: Taco Bell.
But her run for the border becomes mission impossible. Her longtime friend has disappeared - burritos, Mexi melts and all. To the starving driver's dismay, written across the right side of the building, in black spray paint, are the words: WE MOVED!
- Holly Wester
Thursday, July 7
8:30 a.m. - Independence Boulevard.
A Toyota pickup painted with Army camouflage is hard to miss as it speeds along the four-lane road. The tailgate and windows are plastered with bumper stickers about the driver's obvious political leanings (DON'T BLAME ME - I VOTED FOR BUSH) and philosophical stands (SOFT JUDGES MAKE HARDENED CRIMINALS). The license plate, however, bears an equally strong message (and potential warning):
``ILV GUNS.''
- Kevin Armstrong ILLUSTRATION: Staff photo by CHARLIE MEADS
Optical delusion
From afar, this 5-foot fish on a 20-foot cane pole looks quite
realistic. But a closer inspection by the camera's long lens reveals
a wind sock atop James A. Whitley Jr.'s home in the 3300 block of
Club House Road.
by CNB