I try not to attract attention. I breathe better incognito. On a particular hot Sunday in July I parked about four blocks from Dollarton Beach. I slung my two pairs of binoculars across my neck, and carefully wandered down a wide asphalt path. My mission: to lay low behind some logs and scan across the shoreline, make a few notes. I’d be perceived as a bird watcher. I sat on the sand observing through each one of the binoculars and sucking on a pure cane sugar Kombucha drink. I was rudely interrupted when a lanky, curly haired lifeguard with “Ben Acker” marked on a large name tag on his pants asked me “Where did you get that T shirt?”
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