Dazzled by Hollywood

It used to be, when I would walk around La Push all gussied up in a drysuit or a dry top or some other piece of specialty kayak wardrobe, I would feel somewhat odd. Or, at least, I would feel as though my clothing choice set me apart somehow, like maybe I was a bit strange.
Now though, with all the Twilight fans rolling through on their vampire pilgrimages, I don’t feel quite so peculiar. You can’t swing a dead cat in La Push these days without hitting some fourteen year-old goth chick and her androgynous boyfriend as they get their espresso at Jacob’s and tiptoe through the mud to the beach. Whole minivans full of pasty youths pile out down by the jetty and take pictures of one another in front of James Island, each of them getting in touch with their inner Bella.
I still look as strange as I ever did, but the rest of ’em are catching up.