Missing the Point of Ramadan

The first week of September marked the beginning of Ramadan, the 28 day period of fasting for Muslims. While most of the restaurants were closed while the sun is up, there were a couple of places that still delivered food to the office. 3 days into Ramadan, I feel inspired to take part in the fast to experience the rewards and challenges within my own faith. I had missed the first two days, and ultimately that was all the reason I needed to abandon the idea.

Gemma and I made abbreviated trips to the beach a couple of weekends during the month, and looking back, you really can't find a more masochistic thing to do in early September. Sure, you have most of the beach to yourself, but the trip isn't quite the same with ~35C water and ~45C air temperature. I recently bought some fins and would try swimming out to feel a patch of water that didn't burn my skin. These were futile efforts, and on the return i'd only suffer in scalding surf zone.

Since ingestion isn't allowed within public view, I'd bury my head into a beach bag to eat or drink. Occassionally we would see a passerby drinking water, or some big shot drive up on the beach and pop open a cooler. Our sense of civic duty takes over and we begin to feign disgust with phrases like,
"doesn't he know better?"
"is she trying to get fined?"
"is that a BEER?"
Neither Gemma nor I can answer each other, but we reciprocate the reaction. How far we've come- two vigilante Ramadan police wasting away on a sweltering beach. To be honest, I watch these errant beach-goers the same as I would watch NASCAR, just waiting for the 20-car pileup. Maybe the lot will be confronted by police officers, it would get out of hand, and the flaming carnage would be breathtaking. Of course, we don't want that, but I'd buy front row seats.
"That's definitely a beer."
By this point, our jealousy is transparent. We diminish back into our books and I stick my head once again into the beach bag.