It seems like the signs should have been a clue. There was sand piled 3-feet high against most of the houses on the street. Miniature sand dunes were flagged with cardboard that read “FREE SAND” and all we did was laugh and wonder who in the world would come by with a truck and haul it all away?
It never occurred to us to think about how the sand had gotten there. We parked our car in the empty lot and hiked up the stairs to the top of the barrier sand dune, then raced down the other side toward the sparkling water of Lake Michigan. Only then did we put it all together. The wind ripped the sand from the beach and pelted it into our eyes, arms, and mouths. We ran screaming down the beach, shielding our faces as best we could with our hands as the lake stream winds pummeled our body with hurling bits of sharp sand. The climb up the dune took forever. We were beaten and battered by beach.
We raced to our car and took shelter, crunching our way out of the parking lot and down the street where we continued to see sign after sign offering FREE SAND. But the signs weren’t so funny anymore.
Please tell me you would have been as obtuse as we were. 🙂