Monday, June 20, 2005


The sky was blue and the breeze was slight from the northwest as I settled into my beachchair with a beverage of the lager variety, my newest book and watched the azure plain in front of me toss curls of white onto the sand. For the first time in 3 weeks, I was content. Relaxed.

My addiction to the book was only interrupted periodically by the bronzed beach beauties in bikinis parading in the mid-afternoon ocean air. There was a collage of personnel present. The surfer girls - blondes with sun-bleached streaks and body glove costumes. The Brazilians, with multicolored suits, dark and slightly reddened hair along with beautiful Portuguese accents kissing each other on both cheeks as they greeted. The Outlaw girls, with tattoos and piercing that would make Tommy Lee blush. The prancers, who strutted around with enhanced parts like Paris Hilton making a red-carpet entrance. And many more...

The entertainment came most, though, from the Dazers sitting in front of me with their cooler of beer and nothing else to occupy their time. Actually, they were beautiful and had just gotten settled in when a creepy Asian man with two bags began invading their space. As they arrived he had all of his things wrapped around his shoulders and tried initiating a conversation. They gave him brief answers and continued setting up camp while making it clear via body language that he wasn't on their social agenda for today. He decided, seemingly oblivious to their indirect, but obvious rejection, that he would set himself up two feet in front of them. No sooner did they get comfortable when he re-initiated contact. As he was trying to get them to talk more than the one-line answers they were giving to his intrusiveness, he was inching up on to their beach towels. After a few minutes, a guy sitting near them with his wife decided to intervene. Something I was contemplating - as I've done in many other situations - but this was almost too fun to watch. He politely asked the intruder to stop harassing the ladies. I'm not sure what exactly was exchanged but after a few minutes of bickering, intruder retreated back to his own things. The girls were quite thankful. A few minutes passed and the intruder packed up his items and put them back over his shoulder. As he was leaving, he said something to the hero (who was an intimidating character) about how he should learn to mind his own business. Hero simply responded, "I think that perhaps you should learn to do the same." I was impressed by his composure.

As the intruder waltzed down the beach hunting for his next prey, I wondered how people like that live. Does he go home at night and reflect, with embarrassment, about his intrusive behavior? Has he ever been successful in establishing a positive outcome with this approach? Would there be someone down the beach who would interject for the next unsuspecting victims? Is he on the FBI's most wanted list?

I was overextended pondering unanswerable questions and lay back with my book and beer. Content. Relaxed.