I walked into a Korean grocery store in Aptos to buy a beach towel. A leathery skinned man, probably in his 50s, was asking the woman behind the counter something about the sandwiches in the cooler. He wore a tight yellow bathing suit nestled between his spindly legs and bloated stomach, and he had a thick towel draped over his left shoulder. He was also wearing an elaborate black mask with special breathing ports on each side and a sharp frontal ridge that reminded me of a Stealth Bomber. Between this and his long stringy hair, you couldn’t see much of his face other than his bloodshot eyes.
Then two Hispanic girls in tiny bikinis walked through the front door. They looked to be around 14 years old, and they weren’t wearing masks. They walked right by the man on their way to the cooler.
“Put your damn masks on,” the man said.
“Does it look like we have our masks?” the taller of the two girls replied.
“Then go back outside and get your masks. You’re a health risk.”
“We’re just getting some sodas. Leave us alone.”
The girls walked to the cooler, grabbed their sodas, and returned to the register. The shorter girl opened a mini purse, pulled out some money, and paid the woman behind the counter.
“That’s the problem with you little brats,” the man said. “You’re disrespectful, and you’re dangerous. You’re gonna get someone killed some day. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
The taller girl had had enough. She shouted, “Oh, fuck you, you fat old man! You don’t know shit!”
The woman behind the counter yelled, “OK, that’s it. All you, get outta my store! Now!”
As the girls were leaving, the shorter one glanced at me, shrugged her shoulders, and laughed. The man trailed them out slowly, looking angry and defeated. I strolled up to the cash register and placed my beach towel on the counter.
“Does this happen a lot?” I asked.
“All the time,” she said. “Same thing, different day.”
