By the end of the second week, the extravagant armada of yachts was still there, completely dominating the harbor. The wealthy visitors treated the working commercial dock like their own exclusive, private film set. They aggressively blasted trendy music from state-of-the-art deck speakers while staging elaborate photoshoots in expensive designer clothing.
They carelessly left iced coffee cups and ring lights sitting precariously on the weathered wooden pilings, strutting around in impractical footwear as if the tired, working fishermen simply didn’t exist. When Arthur walked by carrying his incredibly heavy gear, they completely ignored his physical presence, carelessly stepping in his way to capture the perfect selfie.
They were deliberately, aggressively ignorant of the undeniable fact that this was a highly functional, dangerous place of grueling business. The working men and women were suddenly treated like unpaid background extras in a massive, never-ending reality television show.
Arthur decided to keep his head down, swallow his pride, and let the viral trend naturally die out. But the ocean could not ignore the chaos.