Potpourri

By Sean McVeigh

Weeknights at 7 p.m., you know where to find me: parked on the couch with my pals Ken Jennings and Johnny Gilbert, ready for another episode of “Jeopardy!” I just can’t get enough. I don’t know about you, but my favorite category on the iconic show is “Potpourri.” Who doesn’t love a good grab bag? You never know what’s going to pop up next! Well, that’s exactly what we’ve got for you this week. Enjoy.

Setting up your area on the beach has become something of a science in Rockaway. And I’m not even talking about the madness of the Fourth of July or the Timmy Klein Volleyball Tournament — those are in a league of their own. I’m talking about a regular ol’ summer Saturday.

There’s a lot to consider when picking that perfect spot: proximity to the lifeguard chair (remember when we had those?), how close you want to be to the water and its ebbing and flowing tides, and — perhaps most importantly — other people.

The unwritten rule states that you can’t go directly in front of someone once they have positioned themselves in front of the ocean. Not surprisingly, it seems like a great number of people are not familiar with these unwritten rules. Someone should probably write those rules down.

But then there’s the flip side: when does saving space turn into full-blown beachfront hoarding? Sure, the early bird gets the worm — but does it need to set up 15 chairs in a perfect line across the middle of the beach? I suppose they’re technically within their rights. And while I’d never do it myself, I can’t lie — my schadenfreude levels spike when someone comes along and plops their chair right in front of them.

Speaking of enough being enough…

The other day, I was driving up Beach 130th Street. When I got to Newport Avenue, the cars heading east and west both stopped and waved me through. I refused, shaking my head and silently mocking them for not understanding how this whole driving thing works.

Later, when I got home, my wife casually asked, “Did you hear about the new stop signs on Beach 130th Street?”

If any intersection deserved a stop sign, maybe it was that one. But still — I was devastated. This is a slippery slope we’ve found ourselves on. These days, it seems like one or two complaints is all it takes for the city to slap up a stop sign, install a speed camera, or drop in a speed bump (or “speed mountain,” as I like to call the ones on Shore Front Parkway). And yet, if we made a thousand calls to remove one, we’d probably get laughed out of City Hall.

I can’t believe I’m quoting Dr. Ian Malcolm — played by the indomitable Jeff Goldblum in “Jurassic Park” — twice in just a few months, but here we are: “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.”

Breaking news from Rockaway Beach this year: there are sharks in the ocean. Shocking, right? What are we going to do about our newfound neighbors?

Truth is, sharks have always been in our waters — or rather, we’ve always been in theirs. When you’ve got drones flying up and down the shoreline staring into the sea for 12 hours a day, you’re bound to spot a few. I’m not saying their numbers haven’t increased — there are more dolphins, whales, and all kinds of marine life out there than ever before. It’s reasonable to assume that more sharks are showing up too.

But closing the water across the entire beach every time one is spotted? I’m not convinced that’s the right move.

Now, I fully acknowledge I’m saying this from the comfort of my front porch. I’m not the one who’s liable if — let’s just call it — an “encounter” occurs. Forget liability, what about the teenage lifeguards that have to go in the water to help. It’s a tough call for everyone involved.

All I’m saying is: whatever happened to “Swim at your own risk”?

At this rate, an entire beachfront apartment complex on Beach 116th will be finished before the one-story Queens Public Library on Beach 117th and Rockaway Beach Blvd. reopens — after (checks notes) … having an HVAC system installed. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Even with the city’s infamously slow bureaucracy, the timeline we’ve been given seems absurd. Maybe it’s all part of an elaborate ruse and they’re secretly building a state-of-the-art underground library as a surprise for the neighborhood. (Of course, I kid.)

What’s worse is that they couldn’t even come up with a convincing lie for this blunder. I miss the days when bad government at least had the common courtesy to feed us B.S. to make us stop complaining. Nowadays, they don’t even bother with that.

An HVAC system? As the kids say: “Make it make sense.”

Like clockwork, this time of year I start longing for the days when I can put on a sweatshirt, watch football and eat wings. On Tuesday morning, we dipped into the 60s for the first time in weeks, and it was glorious.

In winter, we long for summer. And in the dog days of summer, we long for cooler mornings. At least, I do.

There’s been almost no relief from the heat this year. The mornings aren’t breezy, the evenings don’t cool down, and I really should just take that long-sleeve shirt out of my beach bag — it’s not getting any use. The days start hot and humid, get hotter, and then stay hot all night — rinse and repeat.

When fall rolls around, I’ll be in my glory. Sweater weather is my weather. But as Ned Stark so famously said, “Winter is coming.” And when it does, I’ll probably find myself missing these hot and sticky July days all over again.

So it goes.

Photo by Maisie Courtney