It looked pretty enough even on an overcast day at Boca Chica Beach.
I had some time in hand so I pulled out the traveling folding chair I keep in the trunk, along with a magazine which I carry to read while I walk Cheyenne, and I settled in for twenty minutes all to myself.
It was not to be. The sand fleas were ferocious beyond all measure so five minutes after my arrival I was gone, scratching my extremities with fervor and passion as I drove.
Miserable bloody place. Trust me to forget the repellent.