Walking back to my van under the umbrella that keeps most of my thoughts off the rain, I came across a man, sitting alone, drenched, atop the steps of some kind of modern art. You know the type of thing; an empty, roofless room with stairs to nowhere. Real sublime stuff that probably cost the people a couple of million and now sits uselessly occupying space in the middle of the walkway, not even fit to provide shelter from the rain.

Not able to ignore perceived suffering, I felt compelled to offer the man my umbrella. After all, I wasn't far from home and I had a spare - everything in my world has a backup. Even the backups.
He declined, probably despite his real feelings, but before I could move on, he asked for money, of course. Now, I've given enough money to strangers to know it usually ends up going over the booze counter, and I'm not helping anyone to kill themselves at any speed. But if someone's hungry, I'll feed them. The offer of food is usually dismissed rudely, despite the pitch being themed on hunger., once the offer of booze money is off the table.
But now and then, it's met with a grateful smile that resonates in the eye, and today was one of those days.

I told the man to come with me and I would buy him a sandwich and a bag of fruit. He followed happily. On our brief walk, he began telling me his life story, which I hadn't necessarily needed to hear, but the odd word of Polish slipped out, piquing my interest. For a few minutes, we exchanged a coarse mix of Polish and Czech - they're close enough to make it work at a trivial level and I always enjoy spontaneous opportunities to practice.

As we reached the store, his attitude changed. He became nervous and I became suspicious. This was a hungry man accepting free food, or so I thought, but suddenly, this shop and that shop were not quite good enough, and when I asked why, the feeling turned sour. He ignored my question and started to look around like he was expecting someone. My mind rushed back to where we met and began scanning for signs of a trap, but he hadn't approached me and I did not have to offer him food. Yet, still, my survival instincts were coming online and I felt the adrenaline flowing in.

Checking my exits, I told the man i was running late. I'd buy him a snack and then I had to go. He seemed to be trying to stall me, deciding whether or not he was hungry, then he gestured to an expensive-looking Italian restaurant and that was enough for me. As i began back-stepping away from the man, he suggested I should meet his friends, who conveniently happened to hang around just around the next corner.

I readied myself for an attack, pulling up my training and setting up my first, second, third and fourth strikes. Carpal tunnel had already started to set in and I must have looked as off to him as he did to me, but as he stepped towards me, I must have startled him with a flinch reaction because he quickly stepped back again, looking confused by my position. Not a bad thing, I thought. Whatever his deal was, I was going to play this my way. Keeping him in view, I pulled back and made a careful-but-rapid retreat towards the beach where I'd first seen the stranger.

He didn't follow me, instead making a dash for the corner around which he supposedly had an unknown number of friends. I knew I wasn't out of the woods, so I kept alert, careful to deviate from view and change direction unpredictably, so as to avoid a potential ambush. In such moments, you don't think about how realistic the situation is, or why it might be happening. You just think about getting out of it with your skin.

As I crossed back to the beach, I made a point of ignoring my van completely and disappearing down the walkway where my visibility was better than that of anyone who might be scoping me out. Being cautious, and knowing that a well-laid trap could easily involve any number of seemingly-unreleated people and situations, I decided to tuck myself away behind the life-guard's building, where I would spend the better part of the following hour suspiciously eyeballing anyone who came near, until I was sure I was clear of whatever may have been in the mind of that stranger and his 'friends'.

When the coast was clear, I chess-moved my way back to the van, careful not to be seen entering, then closed myself up inside and replayed the weird behavior over and over for the next half hour, over soup and tea, trying to understand which one of us was really acting oddly. As night fell, so, too, did my paranoia, and I relaxed into the typical beach-side observation state that had been the precursor to sleep for some time. And while I had possibly read into something needlessly, I was glad for my instincts and knew I would continue listening to them.

The next morning, the sun woke me at seven-thirty and I was well rested and ready for another shot at adventure. For some reason, I couldn't wait to be outside again. I had a lean breakfast, dressed in a hurry and put on my sunglasses, then locked up my fortress, hopped on my bike and made my way back down the coastal road towards the city. Whatever was waiting there was mine for the taking and I pedaled hard against the road to find out what it was.

My beach hideout.