his hat because they’ re grateful to God that theydon’ t have to do such a bizarre thing to earn a living. There is a woman who plays the violin while standing on her head. And a man who has a table covered with wine glasses of different sizes filled to varying heights with water, and he plays this musical instrument by rubbing his fingers around the tops of those wine glasses. Audiences gather spontaneously to here his rendition of a Mozart sonata or a ragtime melody or the theme from Chariots of Fire. There are breakdancers who bring their own personal linoleum-floor sections, and a jogger who jumps hurdles over the endless row of garbage cans lined along the boardwalk. He has to avoid one garbage can because a homeless person is foraging for lunch. If | had to choose my favorite moment on the boardwalk, it would have to be the time a Rastafarian yogi was standing on the very top of a wooden chair, preparing to jump barefoot onto a pile of freshly broken bottles. “This is serious shit,” he reminded the large semicircle of onlookers. And then, during the anticipatory silence, along came that Jesus freak. Upon seeing this crowd, he edged his way in. Now the Rastafarian yogi was poised upon that unseen edge between “Look before you leap” and “He who hesitates is lost.” Suddenly the Jesus freak called HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015184