The oversized beach bag is a marvel of spatial distortion. You load it up in the morning: towels on top, sunscreen in the side pocket, keys safely stored away. Simple.
Two hours later, that bag becomes a black hole.
You need one thing—say, the lip balm or the truck keys. You stick your hand in, expecting an easy retrieve, and your arm sinks up to the elbow into a warm, damp void. Towels have somehow wrapped themselves around the water bottles. Sunscreen bottles have migrated to the absolute bottom and unspout themselves, coating everything in a lotion-and-sand slurry. Loose seashells, melted gummy bears, and a quarter-pound of loose sand form an impenetrable crust at the base.
To find anything, you have to dump the entire 30-pound contents onto a towel, creating a localized dust storm, only to find the item you were looking for was in your pocket the whole time.
