Here is your scene: a southern California beach with surf competition-like colossal waves. It is polluted with rainbow umbrellas and people. Careening on the warm grainy floor, you seek a perfect spot to lounge, paying close attention not to trip over a half naked body. In the distance, you see a clearing and signal your mates. On the way there, flushed-red-in-the-face children are seen asserting their rights. Chocolate ice cream or no deal. You find that awesome spot next to a group of young men throwing a red disc and hope they ask you to join them, only to broadcast your skills. Before passing out on your towel, your last image is of proud loners reading, running by, or hiding under the only pair of trees.