I would love to tell you that I am 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, makes themselves small. 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 opinion count. I can even afford the luxury of using irony, all while elevating my position against the adversary. In the shower. Alone. Very sad, all in all. Therefore, when I face 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 kind of topless Captain Planet ‘topless’. They say it: not all heroes wear capes; some don't even wear the top 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 that you shower, that you rinse off the seaweed —so much of it, so very much, that we have had this summer and that has gifted us empty beaches in the middle of August—, but not that you spend more than a minute in the shower. If it were up to me, the button should give you an electric shock if you press it more than once; like a Mediterranean version of The Hunger Games. You have come to the beach: 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, since now you are a sponge with legs. If my huffs and grumbles haven't bothered you, along with a baby in my arms who is looking at you just as badly as I am, I don't know what will. My tactic is simple: I wait patiently for one shower turn —two, because I'm feeling 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 in Mallorca we don't have water 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 annoyed 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.At the town sandcastle competition, some young people are filling small buckets with water from the shower. I approach them and explain that it is better to take water from the sea, as it is better not to waste fresh water. They, and their three heads taller than me, shrug their shoulders and turn around. Then come the little children, following the example of the older ones, and I explain it to them again, Club Super3 style. And then comes a mother. A local MOTHER! Thus, in capital letters, so that the gravity of the matter is clear. I tell her to take water from the sea, that if we tell the children not to do it, we should lead by example. "There are algae in the sea" is her response. My desire to kill is increasing and today I don't plan to wait until I reach the shower. "It's a sandcastle competition. They are algae, not anthrax," I reply. I congratulate myself for this insightful comment and in her response she limits herself to saying that I should go and scold the teenagers. We get into an argument while I tell her that they already know and that I am quite ashamed to have to tell off an adult. The woman starts yelling at me and I, with a child in my arms, tell her that I am perplexed, that doesn't she see what is happening around her?! She insists that it is her right (legitimate, I imagine?) and encourages her children to fill more buckets, until her little one asks her to go and get water from the sea. "No, you will do what I tell you, because I am the adult and I said we are taking it from here." I will only say that I understand Michael Douglas more and more in Falling Down.My figure as an eco-avenger should not exist. At a time when half the world is burning—moreover, right on our doorstep—, when the mercury is climbing to temperatures worthy of Mad Max and with a bleak future, what are you doing with your lives? Resources do not magically come out of a button, no matter how much it has seemed that way to us all these years. Water is a scarce commodity and at this point there is no excuse for playing the fool. I read news about hotels that pay ridiculous fines while entire villages fill buckets to face water cuts; of artificial lakes and parties where they swim in the abundance of those who think their wealth will keep them safe and sound, and I believe we still don't quite understand what this is all about. Yes, we should all leave our comfort zones and help make each other better. However, our paper straws, reusable cups, and waste separation cannot carry the entire weight of the climate fight, nor endure the ravages of eco-anxiety. Because small changes start with us, yes, but let's not forget the artificial lakes, the wives of footballers who take a jet to go buy chorizo, or corporations turning a blind eye to a world that is showing us it can no longer take it.