Morning sunlight glints off the ocean. Sweat earned by my morning run dries on my skin. The waves inch in, then slip back out again, their edges bordered by white foam. I stand, my hands on my hips, and look ahead.
I'm looking at the seagulls.
If you've been to the beach, you know that the gulls are ubiquitous. Here, they dot the sand in front of me like beached buoys. They stand, sentries of the shoreline, watching me. I watch them back. They are unimpressed by me. I don't have food, which means that I'm basically worthless. They all but turn their beaks up at me as they poke at the ground, searching for sustenance.
Then, without warning, I get An Idea. If you know me, you know that I get nonsensical urges from time to time. They're totally irrational, totally random and totally silly.
For no reason at all, I want to run towards the seagulls like a crazy person, flailing my arms and screaming, just so I can force them to notice me.
I know. It's a little rude. After all, like me, the seagulls are enjoying this fine South Carolina morning. They're minding their own business, saving their annoying natures for later when some hapless six-year-old opens a bag of Cheetos.
I dig the toe of my running shoes in the wet sand, forming a little well. Maybe I should leave them alone. I look back at the seagulls. They aren't even looking at me.
I make up my mind. I sprint full speed ahead at the seagulls, my arms raised over my head and my fingers splayed. They stare at me for a moment, waiting to see if I will stop. I don't.
If seagulls could roll their eyes and sigh, they would as they rise into the air as one, sailing overhead lazily for but a moment. I retreat, giggling like a schoolgirl, and they settle back on the sand. They shuffle their feet as if to reprimand me for my stunt, but I can take it. Seagull shame is worth the one moment of unadulterated bliss earned by giving in to one of my impractical yet hilarious urges.