THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 17, 1994 TAG: 9407150209
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 03 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Long : 117 lines
It's a hot and lazy day when the young woman manning the outdoor booth suddenly yelps and starts pulling at her tank top.
Two older gentlemen picking out vegetables are startled by her antics.
``Something's biting me. There's a wasp in my shirt,'' she whimpers. ``I can't reach it, can you see it?'' she says, frantically pulling up the side of her top. ``Help! It's stinging the heck out of me.''
The two men are astounded, a little embarrassed and obviously reluctant to go fishing around inside her shirt. Clearly, they don't know what to do. They look at each other and back at the young woman, who by then has pulled her shirt up to her armpit, revealing a good deal of flesh.
The men start mumbling and pointing to a female shopper who is approaching the stand.
``I don't care who does it,'' the young woman pleads, desperately. ``Just someone please get it out. It's still stinging me.''
The newcomer does a visual inspection and starts offering suggestions. The two men, now that more appropriate help has arrived, depart.
The wasp itself is never spotted, but the young woman is left with a burning red welt under her arm.
- Melinda Forbes FRIDAY, JULY 8 11 p.m.\ The air conditioner hasn't been working since earlier in the day at Bubba's Beach Club on Laskin Road.
Workers and patrons are depending on ceiling fans to circulate the stuffy summer air.
Four hot women throw a $20 bill down on their table and tell waiter Chris Thomson it's his if he can cool them down. The dutiful waiter quickly returns with a pitcher of ice and surprises the ladies by splashing them and the table.
Then he quickly picks up the $20. The women are cool and amused. In fact, they even leave him a tip.
- David B. Hollingsworth SATURDAY, JULY 9 1:15 p.m. - Croatan.
Two dark-haired young ladies, sweating out the heat wave on a striped beach blanket, admire the body of a deeply tanned blond on a fishing boat close to shore.
``Gosh,'' says one. ``He must be desperate.''
Written across the small watercraft, in huge red numbers, is a phone number.
(It's actually the number of a jet ski business he's advertising.)
- Holly Wester SUNDAY, JULY 10 1:30 a.m. - Atlantic Avenue
A mixed pair of locals, who have just finished bar hopping on the city's hottest block, lean against the wall under the bar's tinted picture window, to observe the variety of small congregations.
Young people munch out on pizza from nearby shops while they chat about where they will go next - another club, out for breakfast or home.
When a fleet of police officers on horseback, motorcycle and foot close in on the action, one observer makes a conclusion about his hometown: ``Beer, pizza and cops - that's Virginia Beach.''
- Holly Wester 12:10 p.m. - Croatan
While his mother and her friend relax in the sun, a blond-haired toddler digs around to find beach critters to play with.
After a few minutes of shoveling, the diapered child finds a tiny crab buried under a mound of dry sand.
Instead of crushing the baby crab's shell, tossing it on his mom or eating it, the little boy rescues it, trots down to the shoreline and sends it home - into the wet sand.
- Holly Wester 8:10 p.m. - 35th Street and Oceanfront.
Mother nature is demonstrating a full range of moods this day.
A half-hour earlier she sent an angry thunderstorm, complete with strong, gusty winds, flashes of lightning and pelting rain barreling up the oceanfront. It sent bathers and Boardwalk strollers scurrying for cover and blew down tents erected on the beach near 3rd Street for Jet ski races.
Suddenly the temper tantrum subsides and the setting sun peeps under west-moving clouds.
A double rainbow forms off shore, arching from 35th street to Rudee Inlet. The Atlantic calms to a smooth, slate gray and a pair of porpoises break the ocean surface, their dorsal fins sliding gracefully through the reflection of the double arches.
Diners in the outdoor cafe at the Thunderbird motel sit transfixed by the scene, silently nibbling at salads or sipping at after-dinner drinks.
- Bill Reed MONDAY, JULY 11 10 p.m. - The Jewish Mother.
After singing a few opening tunes, the two-girl acoustic group ``The Story'' sets up for their sarcastic anti-diet song, ``Fatso.''
With lyrics like, ``Last night I dreamed I ate a chocolate cake, and when I woke up, I was sure it was true, so I weighed myself just to make sure and drank a diet Coke,'' the duo tries to get the sold-out crowd to talk about weight issues.
``The waif look is out,'' says one of the singers.
The omelette and dessert-eating crowd cheers and claps.
``Breasts are in,'' says the other. ``Yeah!''
Another round of applause follows, and one young woman in the back stands up and screams, ``YEAH, REAL ONES!''
- Holly Wester TUESDAY, JULY 12 7 a.m. - North End.
The license plate on a shiny, new black Bronco: IFGIVU.
- Mary Reid Barrow by CNB