Dave and Peter, farmers? from CA

After supper, Tammy and I donned our summer frocks and went down to the deck area poolside where a hot samba band was electrifying the atmosphere with that seductive Latin beat. I spotted a couple of familiar faces -- two guys I'd exchanged smiles with in the lobby earlier. They introduced themselves as Dave and Peter from California. They said they were farmers. I didn't ask them what they farmed.

We chatted and tried to samba a little, but I preferred talking. Dave didn't know what a loaded question he was asking when he inquired, "What kind of a day did you have?" I told him about my wierd experiences and he listened avidly.

As the hot summer evening wore on, Dave and Peter started to play word games with me. Mind games really. Like filling in the blanks or guessing the next word. It was all very strange. Somewhere along the line, I wondered if this hotel was holding some kind of psychic conventions, and all these guests were psychics.

Dave and Peter invited Tammy to dinner to a spot they knew in town. I wasn't invited. I think they thought I was "too much", "too heave". I didn't really mind, even though I did find Dave kind of cute. I retired early, still bewildered.