Someone at work once said I was competitive. 

“Only if you’re competing with me,” I said.  

I am supportive and cooperative to the extreme, until someone makes the mistake of seeing me as a challenge, and then some unreasoning warrior rises out of my subconscious and takes over. 

Like today, at the beach. 

I got there early, and chose a spot at the high water line where there was plenty of space between two families and an unobstructed view of the water.

Then a family (Pop-Pop, Grammy, Mom, Dad, and two littles) assertively plunked their folding chairs right in front of me, just past my towel, below the high water mark but inside the personal space that beachgoers allow between them. It was odd, but then I realized their blanket and buckets, and all their beach supplies for the day, were well behind me.

They too had arrived early, with the goal of claiming an infinite slice of beach all the way to the water.

Then I had had the effrontery to block the view they had assumed was theirs for the day.

It was on. 

I was comfortable with my umbrella, my towel, and my chair, and because they didn’t know who they were dealing with, I sat happily looking between them at the beautiful water. I had been activated, and now there was nothing I could do about it. 

If they had said something, I would have felt bad, apologized, and moved. But no.

And I happened to know the tide was coming up.

It was a sweet family. Dad and little boy had matching suits. Grammy and Grandpop were soaking up the sun. The parents took the little ones down to the water and back.  Sometimes they went back to their blanket behind me to get something, but then they returned, determined to edge me out. Doubtless they were confident in their ability to unnerve the little old gray haired lady.

But bit by bit, the water marched up. It filled the holes the children dug, and slopped over the adults’ feet as they sat in the chairs. It lapped against their drinks. 

Yet they hung on. They were determined. 

The time of high tide seemed to arrive and pass, and they settled in to consolidate their victory.

But I was patient.

Whereupon a rogue wave came rolling up, farther than ever before, and swept all their possessions back. It hurled buckets, shoes, lanyards, and sandals in every direction.

Then I had the magnanimous pleasure of helping them retrieve the buckets and shovels and towels, while they thanked me, and while we all smiled at one another.

Then more waves attacked, unpredictably. And they were besieged by the indifferent ocean. 

One by one, the adults took their chairs back behind me. Finally, the last laggard, Grandpop, picked up and retreated, and I went for a nice swim.

They finally gave up and went back to their vacation rental. 

I am a terrible person sometimes, but I am old enough that I don’t mind being terrible every once in a while. Especially if I win.