Fourteen and crazy

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.