So we go down to the beach. As you can see, we are juuuust past the green fence, but still with in eye sight of the life guard. I have a child with special needs, you bet your sweet ass I'm sitting right up under the life guard. I'm down on the shore playing with Pudd'n and GP is hanging with daddy as you can see from the photo. GP is on leash. Remember crabby old man that first harassed me? Well he is "picking up trash" and eye balling Steve. He actually checked out what side of the fence we were on before he came up to Steve telling him GP's vest had to be on him at all times or we had to leave the beach. Steve informed him that no, once we validate that GP is a service dog, the vest does not have to be visible. Crabby old man then gets all huffy and said that "penial code says it has to be on the dog". Steve then informed COM that he'd better go to ADA.gov, scroll down, make clicky on a link and enlighten himself on WHAT is required of service dogs. Otherwise COM better show up with some written proof about that penial code because we are getting ready to sue Shitcliffs with harassment. After about an hour and a half COM walks up to us again. He has his hand out and says "I owe you folks an apology". WHAT. THE. FUCK???? Thank all that is holy that I was sitting down because I would have fainted. COM went and checked what Steve told him to, got him self enlightend and ate some crow. We told COM that now that the tide took the rocks away from where we were currently sitting, that that would be the spot we'd go to (in stead of sitting on their precious sand). We chatted a bit and it turned out that since Aunt Selma's moble home unit was a member of the neighboring shitcliffs, her guests can get a wrist band to go in shitcliff's club house. This means I'll have a bathroom! We will no longer be harassed at Shitcliffs as long as GP is on a leash. The rest of our summer will be perfect now.