In the early morning hours as I took smoke breaks on the 2nd floor balcony of our hotel room I watched one of those drunk girls who are always crying and carrying-on ruin a romantic weekend with the boyfriend with her loud and unnecessary drama in the parking lot. Various cars and motorcycles with loud pipes showed off on Shoreline Drive.
Street characters wandered around, pretending to be late night tourists whenever the cops rolled past.
And this particular gentleman slept on one of the bi-directional benches atop the seawall.
With head and arms pulled into his shirt like a turtle, he fights off the cool salty winds blowing across the bay.
I got the vibe that he wasn't homeless or a freak of any kind, just some poor schmuck who probably had an argument with his wife and decided to walk to the water and sleep away the anger.
Seeing him didn't make me feel sad, just a little melancholy.
And then he was gone.
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