John Marcone had a plan. He knew of an abandoned sand quarry down near Vineland and Millville, and he wanted to get those of us who hung out together and go down there for a cookout and a day of swimming and volleyball. He also alluded to the privacy the area afforded for the possibility of "romantic interludes" for those among us who had female company.
"It's the perfect place for us," he said. "The perfect place for us, if you know what I mean."
So that would be the plan. We would gather up our cohorts and head down to this sand quarry for fun in the sun and the hope that some kind of sexual encounters would take place.
John was the organizer of the group, and he got busy with the logistics.
It was up to the rest of us to find a girl.
At the same time, a young man was looking out on the dunes and woods and cedar-stained ponds of an abandoned sand quarry on the Vineland and Millville border.
"This is it," he said to himself. "This is the perfect place."