On the New Jersey shoreline there are sheltered stands that the lifeguards sit in during the long summer days. Come dusk, when those suntanned, red-shorted wardens leave their posts at the tail end of an exodus of tourists, the stands are left to the imagination of the young locals. The stands are set up such that there is a covered bench the size of a loveseat beneath an overhang. The overhang is structured that lifeguards can climb up on top of the overhang and perch themselves atop the stand to get a higher perspective. At night, the young locals find their way to top of those stands, the soft light khaki sand a daunting six or seven feet below serving as a questionable pillow to any fall. Standing there at the ledge, you begin to worry. Now that you’ve climbed up, you feel somewhat obliged to jump, to leap. This is particularly true if there’s some peer pressure.