I rolled up my pants, took off my socks, put back my sneakers, and walked with Weber along the shoreline. He was interested in the large of amount of horseshoe crabs (all dead) that were there. And kept picking them up to see where the seagulls had feasted. They looked like big bugs to me.
Anyway, I found these shoes about 3 yards from the water, and kept waiting for the low-tide surf to hit them. After waiting for a while I gave them a not too subtle kick to move them closer to the water.
Weber was crying: foul! No fair! You kicked that cigar near the dead guy like Weegee. Stuff along those lines.
If it was good enough Weegee — and besides – it’s not exactly pretending to be street documentary photography — but I didn’t kick them far enough. The water still wasn’t washing over them as I saw in my mind.
So I bent down and picked ’em up. Walked a few feet closer and tossed them down. Which is how you see they landed – and just as I did that a woman came running down wanting to know why I had just thrown her shoes in the water (okay – I’m kidding – that didn’t happen).
But it would be a funny ending for the post – don’t you think?