I would love to tell you that I am one of them, one of those assertive people who say what they think and make their voice heard. I am not. I am one of those who, in the face of a conflict or a slight threat, shrinks. Mind you, a few hours later I win all the dialectical arguments in the shower. You should see me: I am quick, with sharp arguments, and I make my point of view known. I can even afford the luxury of using irony, all while elevating my position over my adversary. In the shower. Alone. Very sad, all of it. Therefore, when I confront someone, you can be sure that it must have been something serious. And that is, precisely, what happened to me this summer.To put you in context, we have spent a few weeks on vacation in the north of Mallorca, near the area where my grandparents were from and where I used to spend my summers as a child. My new routine has consisted of waiting to see the sunrise (an advantage of a child who doesn't sleep), going to the beach at 9:00, and returning at 11:00. And, involuntarily, becoming a sort of 'topless' Captain Planet. They say it: not all heroes wear capes; some don't even wear the top part of their swimsuit. And if there is one thing I cannot understand and that I handle worse every year, it is the issue of public showers at the beach. I can understand showering, rinsing off the seaweed —so much, so very much, that we've had this summer and that has gifted us empty beaches in the middle of August—, but not staying in the shower for more than a minute. If it were up to me, the button should give you an electric shock if you touch it more than once; like a Mediterranean version of The Hunger Games. You came to the beach: whether you like it or not, you will take home some grains of sand between your toes. Spoiler: wetting your flip-flops will only make the situation worse, as now you are a sponge with legs. If my huffs and grumbles haven't bothered you, along with a baby in my arms looking at you just as badly as I am, I don't know what will. My tactic is simple: I wait patiently for a shower turn —two, because I feel generous—, I start shifting my weight from one foot to the other, exhaling louder and louder through my nose. And then I go straight into action and explain in English that we have no water in Mallorca and that we should be finishing up... Most people are surprised; some act as if it has nothing to do with them, and others get confrontational. I would love to think that they are equally bothered by: the grains of sand and the crazy woman who goes topless who speaks to them in three languages so they can choose which one they want to be offended in.