Hero - from the Greek meaning 'to protect and to serve'

The police broke up the drum circle on the beach on Sunday night. The drums had started around 4pm and by 8, I was walking to the liquor store when I heard a police megaphone from a block or two away, barking out orders to disperse.

There was helicopter noise in the air over the beach and sirens below. Blue and red police lights on the sand. A big crowd had been effectively contained. Car headlights lit the crowd’s path off the beach and back toward compliance. It gave the scene a real Close Encounters feel - backlit by police car, came these Southern Californian silhouettes in the night. Sand kicking up around feet, exhaust fumes, helicopter wind in the cooling evening.

On my way back I passed a tall neatly dressed man talking to a bearded white beach bum. The bum said -‘Well I’m tellin’ ya, I was there when they first turned up, and you know what my feelings are? It’s like this… they piss me off, the motherfuckers’

Later that night a group of muscle cars got into a jam on the intersection of Pacific and Rose. They must have all tried to pull out in formation but got stuck in a star shape. The cars were too bulky to reverse out effectively, so they had a few drivers stepping out of their cars, voices were raised offering suggestions on whose fault it was and the best way out of it, but once they got righted, they blasted off together down Pacific Avenue, the noise like a crack of gunfire ripping the night in two momentarily, until all five cars in the pack tuned sweetly into a performance engine power chord.