Fourteen
and crazy
When
you think of Florida a couple of the things that come to mind are oranges and tourists.
In 1967 I seemed to get the two of them tangled up in just about everything
that I did.
I
was fourteen and constantly on the go, in a place where there were hordes of
people who didn't know you or didn't care who you were. You could get in and
out of trouble so fast that you hardly ever knew your present status. Was I in
trouble or not? Who did you say were you again?
Working
the Tourists
Being
teenagers we were always in need of spending money. Having very little in the
way of marketable skills, it was only natural that a few of us ended up doing
manual labor.
An
easy job to get was working for one of the orange groves moving bags and crates
of oranges, grapefruit and lemons. Sometimes we got to work in the sorting
area, and sometimes they sent us out to pick oranges.
Having
teenagers as pickers wasn't really a good idea on their part as we were too
slow. The migrant workers who usually picked the oranges were very fast and
they resented our being "in the way." Honestly, they could get more
done without us.
There
were a couple of the guys who were very bold and preferred to hustle tourists.
They would go to a rival grove (you didn’t burn your job “bridges”) and sit out
front, waiting for one of the pushy tourists to order them to "Fetch me a
bag of them oranges boy, and don't get no rotten ones in it either!"
They
would "Yes sir" them and go around to the sorting area and snag
(steal) a bag of oranges off of one of the tables and take it out to the car
for the tourist. When they collected the cash for it, they just put it in their
pocket and waited for the next tourist.
Scoundrels
for sure, but they would make on average fifty to one hundred dollars before
any of the employees got wise. When that happened, and it always did, they
would just go on to the next grove and pull the same gag over again. I couldn’t
do it, the stealing and lying was too much for me to stomach. I preferred to
work for what I got.
Another
favorite money maker of our scam artists was to set up a table and cash box
(that made them look legitimate) at one of the side gates to the groves. It had
to be one that was near to a fairly well traveled road frequented by tourists
going from attraction to attraction.
There
were two variations to this scam; the least popular was the five dollar walking
tour of the "World Famous Orange Groves." It worked, just not for too
long. When you've seen one orange tree, you've seen it all.
The
better version was the "All of the oranges you can pick for twenty-five
dollars." We knew (and you probably do too) that you could buy a lot of
oranges, already picked and bagged for that amount of money. We also knew that
if those tourists thought that they were getting a better deal than somebody
else, they would pay double the rate... they were nuts!
Sometimes
we would ride through the groves after hours on horseback and pick gunny sacks
full of oranges or my favorites, the Ponderosa lemons. Those beauties were as
big as grapefruit and were less tart than regular lemons. They were also a lot
more closely guarded.
One
grove had night watchmen with dogs and those guys carried shotguns. I didn't
know why, but that was always my choice of places to go on an after dark raid.
Maybe it was the thrill of possibly getting caught or even shot at. That we
could actually get shot didn't even enter our ignorant teenaged minds. We were
incredibly lucky to have escaped unharmed from those forays.
The
Party
Once
there was a big outing planned to a very secluded pond, deep in the middle of a
large grove of oranges. It was impossible to drive to without getting caught by
the grove foreman because he kept padlocks and chains on the gates and checked
them regularly.
Being
local kids we knew a back way in from a spot where we could park the cars
belonging to the two guys old enough to drive. It was about a half mile walk
from there and you had to go through two fences, but it wasn't bad.
We
went on a Sunday afternoon around 5:00 p.m. because that would have been when
the grove tourist shops would be closed (or in the process of closing) and all
the employees would have gone home. Theoretically there wouldn't be anybody
around to catch us. There was a lot of luck and expectations in most of what we
did.
The
group that went on that trip consisted of four boys and four girls, aged from
fourteen (me) to sixteen years old. Our intent, which was stated right up front,
was to go skinny dipping in the pond there. Being the youngest one in the group
I could hardly keep the grin off of my face as the others talked about it.
All
eight of us agreed to take it all off and swim the length of the pond naked. Then
if anyone wanted to put their bathing suit back on they wouldn't be called
chicken or said to have backed out of a dare. We talked a good story and the
hormones were doing most of the talking. The girls definitely did their share of
stirring it up, saying that the guys would chicken out.
There
was a case of beer in a cooler in the trunk of one of the cars, for afterwards
when we thought that we might really get to "party" with these bold
babes. We definitely had hopes and plans for this evening; the other car's trunk
had sleeping bags in it. The girls knew all about the beer and the sleeping
bags and were talking about it all too.
With
high spirits and lots of laughter and giggling, we drove to the parking spot
and stripped down to our bathing suits and sneakers. The oldest boy secured our
clothes inside the trunk of his car, which was the one with the cooler in it. His
plan was to have some cold beer ready to offer the girls when we got back and
were getting dressed... planning, along with timing, being everything in his
mind.
It
didn't take long for us to follow the path through the groves and slip through
the fences. We were being the most courteous gentlemen and holding the wire
apart for the girls to go through, on our best behavior and all that. The girls
were doing their best southern belle accents as they thanked us for each polite
gesture.
I
think that the guys were ten times more nervous as we got closer to the pond,
than the girls were. I'm not sure if that was excitement about seeing the girls
naked, or insecurity about them seeing us in that condition... probably some of
both.
I
was a multi-sport athlete in excellent condition, but I only weighed one
hundred pounds. I felt like I was a skinny runt compared to the older guys.
They were all taller and heavier than I was, but mentally I ran circles around
them, so it all evened up.
We
stopped at the edge of the trees and took a good and careful look around the
pond, making sure that NO ONE was around. Someone had left a tractor and
flatbed wagon used for hauling orange crates right next to the end of the pond
closest to where we came out of the trees.
It
was decided that the wagon would be a perfect spot to put our clothes. The
trailer was only a couple of feet from the water and chest high with a lip
around it, making a safe, clean, and “no bugs” place to put our bathing suits.
You had to be especially careful of fire ants.
Once
we had all gathered by the trailer and were standing there staring at each
other trying to figure out how to proceed, it was suggested that we should all
strip at once.
One
of the guys said, "But the guys all have their shirts off already and the
girls have two articles of clothing on. The guys would be naked first and the
girls could trick us.
The
oldest girl and the one who had the most developed body said, "OK girls,
let's show these chickensh--s who has guts and who doesn't! Off with the tops!"
As she said it, she did it. The other three followed her lead and while they
were not as developed they were every bit as beautiful.
All
of the guys stood there with our eyes bulging out of our heads and the leader
of the girls said, "Are we going to do this, or is this all you wanted the
whole time?" We all stammered and stuttered, "We're going to do
everything we said" and puffed up like so many bandy roosters. The lead girl
said, "On a count of three, everybody drop 'em, One, Two, Three!"
What
do you think happened? We dropped those bathing suits and stood there staring
at each other. The boys stared at the girls and tried not to look at the other
boys. The girls weren’t as inhibited and looked at each other and the boys.
I'm
afraid that the guys weren't much to look at in that scared and nervous state,
if you know what I mean. The girls looked awesome… the guys looked cold.
We
put our suits up on the trailer to keep the bugs out of them (and have them
where we could grab them if we had to run for it) and all headed for the pond. There
was a lot of nervous looking around, searching in every direction for the sight
of trouble as we got into the water.
Damn
it was freezing at first, but as the girl I was paired up with came up behind
me and wrapped her arms around my neck and hung onto me it got a lot warmer. In
fact as she got friendlier, I thought that the water was going to start boiling
any minute.
One
of the other girls who didn't really like the guy she ended up with, said,
"Aren't we supposed to swim the length of the pond? Come on girls, let's
show these ‘little weenies’ who can swim!" Ouch, that smarted.
I
was enjoying what was transpiring with my girl just fine, without all the
swimming. But if one girl said something, it was an all-for-one and one-for-all
situation with them. So, we all took off swimming for the other end. I hadn't realized
how long that pond was; it was easily three times as long as an Olympic Pool.
We
were pretty exhausted by the time we got to the other end and the girls had
indeed left us in their wake. But I must admit, the view was excellent from a
following position!
When
we all reached the far end and stopped where we could reach the bottom and not
have to tread water, we gathered together in a close circle. That way we could
see each other in the fading light and talk about what to do when we left the
pond. The girls were very much in agreement with having a party, but there was
discussion about where.
Some
wanted to go to the beach to get away from the mosquito's that would be out
soon. Others wanted to go to another remote spot where we knew that the cops (or
anybody else for that matter) couldn't come up on us without our knowing about
it. I voted for wherever there would be the least mosquitoes. But, since I
wasn’t driving, my vote didn’t carry much weight.
While
we were tossing the ideas around we heard an engine start up and looked around
us quickly. Once the source of the sound was located our hearts sank lower than
the bottom of that pond.
There
was a migrant worker on the tractor and he was driving it (and the trailer
hooked to it) out a gate towards the equipment barn. All of our clothes were on
that trailer, along with the car keys!
The
girls sank down in the water up to their noses and started to get teary-eyed
and say, "What are we going to do now?" The guys were “of course”
much more in control... offering various wise things to the group like,
"Aw Sh-t", and "We are going to die!"
At
that point one of the girls started to cry (there's always one) which started
the chain reaction of tears among the girls; except for the girl who had
latched on to me. She had a wild look in her eyes and I believed that she really
liked this situation. It got her more excited to be in such "danger” and
she clung to me even harder.
We
thought about heading for the cars naked, we could possibly get into the car
and hot wire it. But, we still couldn't get into the trunk to get our clothes. Plus,
we would have to drive into town naked; the whole group of us completely bare
butt naked! That idea started a new round of tears from the other girls as they
envisioned the trouble they would get into with their parents.
That
just left sending a clothes rescue mission after the tractor and trailer. I
volunteered to go saying that I knew the grounds of that grove the best of any
of us, all the while thinking to myself, “I want my clothes!”
The
girl who was attached to me (literally at that point) immediately volunteered
to go with me. I was sure that was because of the increased chance of getting
caught; it was really turning this girl on.
Truthfully,
I was conflicted between being excited about the girl with me being aroused and
hanging all over me, and fearful that she would do something to get us caught
for the extra “rush” of being busted.
We
agreed that the rest of the group would wait either in the pond, or at the edge
of the woods on the path to the cars, for us to get back. The other girls
didn't share the enthusiasm of mine for possibly getting caught, they were
whining about what their parents would do if this got out, etc. The guys were
pretty much speechless with fear, thinking about what the girls’ fathers would
do when they found out.
Lady
Godiva and I took off along the wagon road and while I was trying to be
cautious and not be seen, she was walking right down the middle of the path. It
was almost dark by now and chances of being seen were not great, but she was
fearless.
In
a short amount of time we came to a closed gate and past that we could see the
wagon and trailer parked next to the equipment shed. I couldn’t see the man who
drove it there anywhere around the building.
I
convinced my wild date to stay low and wait for me to come back while I went
for the clothes. As quietly as I could I slipped inside the compound and went
along the building in the dark shadow next to it.
Stumbling
over unseen things I was almost to the trailer where I could see all of our
stuff, right where we left it. And then I heard it... a low growl coming from
somewhere in the shadows.
“Oh
great” I thought, “A dog, and I'm naked.” Three guesses as to where my hands
went instantly. Sure enough a big dog popped out of the shadows, but ran right
past me.... straight to the crazy chick. She had silently followed me and was
now petting the happy mutt like they were old buddies.
I
quickly grabbed all of our stuff and made sure that I had both sets of keys. As
fast as I could I put my bathing suit and shoes on. There was no way of knowing
if the dog had alerted anyone else and they might appear at any moment.
The
girl didn't want to put her clothes on until the others did, which was fine
with me. I liked the way she looked just like she was. The dog followed us back
down the trail and we made no effort to hide going back and so made much better
time.
When
we rejoined the others, the party atmosphere had disappeared. After everyone had
gotten dressed and hiked back to the cars, the girls wanted to go home. The other
guys were of the same opinion, but didn't want to admit it. Too much stress with
their orange juice I guess.
I
was still pretty excited about the "prospects" at that point and it
kind of let the air out of my sails for the rest of them to want to quit. My
girl was still hanging on me and kissed my ear or neck frequently, which drove
me crazy.
When
the decision was made final and everyone started getting into cars, the girl
that I was with said that she didn't need a ride... she would just walk back up
to the house.
I
thought to myself, “This girl IS crazy!” Then she followed up with, "It's
my uncle's house... he owns this grove." The world spun for a few seconds
as my life flashed by and I thought that I was going to drop.
Right
then and there I knew that it wasn’t her; I was the craziest one. If I had been
caught naked with THIS girl, on THIS property... they would have to strain
alligator sh-t to get enough of me to bury. Her family was the craziest bunch
of violent red-necks in the county and all of her brothers and cousins had
police records.
I
changed my mind, I wanted to go home right away too; while I still had unbroken
legs.
Epilogue:
I
did go out with the girl on one date to Pirate’s World after that ill fated
swimming adventure, but her three brothers (one younger, two older) went along
too. It was a lot less fun than you could imagine. I didn’t do that again.
About
a year after the skinny dipping party I had occasion to visit that same grove
and pond with my uncle. We went there to deliver a couple of special locking
sixty gallon barrels that he had traded to the grove foreman for something.
While
we were standing on the path (exactly where the wagon had been parked during
our swim) an eight foot alligator climbed out of the pond and onto the bank. My
uncle remarked that he must have walked a long way to get into the pond. The
foreman said that he (the alligator) had lived in that pond for at least ten years
and everyone there knew to stay away from him because he was, “cranky.” OK, the
girl WAS crazier.
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