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When I set out to go to Santa Cruz on Saturday, March 13, I had no intention of doing anything school related. My intentions were to ride roller coasters and swim at the beach. My cross-country running team was out to celebrate its victory in the regional championships. Our plan was to spend the entire day at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. After a full morning of riding roller coasters, the team decided to have lunch and go to the beach. When we arrived at the beach, the sun was directly above us and crisping our pale bodies. It was time for a swim. The team splashed its way into the water, and was content with swimming and jumping around.

"Oh, my god! What the hell is that?" yelled someone swimming nearby. We looked, and to our surprise, we saw an almost full-grown seal bobbing its head in the waves no more than thirty feet away from where we were playing. Curiosity overtook us and we moved closer, straining to get a better look. The seal, oblivious, remained on its strange course towards land. I was puzzled as to why this seal was coming towards the beach. Was it hurt? Was it sick? Had it lost its way? In any case, I knew we shouldn't come close to it. It's a wild animal.

Within a minute, the seal was onshore. A few people on the beach noticed this big brown blob, and they came over to get a better look. Soon a small group of about 20 people were huddled around the terrified seal. It started moving faster and faster up the beach, and people squealed as they got out of the way. The seal was completely encircled now, and it couldn't see the water anymore. One girl in a black bikini started petting it. She would walk up to it from the back and lean forward, run her hand over its smooth skin, squirm with delight, and then jump back out of the way when the seal turned its head and looked at her. A few people told her to stop, but she didn't. Soon other people followed her lead and did the same little routine of sneaking up, petting, squirming, and then jumping away. After about 5 minutes, many of the people in the crowd were touching it, and it made me and most of my team wish the police or animal control would come. But none came. A few people who were watching on the outskirts were trying to tell the people who were petting the people to stop, but they weren't listening. The crowd swelled to about 50 people as they noticed the large clump of people by the waterside.

And then it hit me. I was witnessing mob psychology in its purest form. This was a truly spontaneous event. I began to take mental notes of all my surroundings as fast as I could. The huge crowd with their camera phones and video cameras. The confused seal that was hopelessly surrounded. The waves lapping at my feet. The fog that was just starting to roll in.

The number of people who produced cameras from their pockets and handbags amazed me. I realized that if I were going to do my On-Site Observation on this, I had better have some way of keeping track of all the things happening around me. I sprinted up the beach to where some of our team's parent chaperones were watching. I asked one of the parents for her digital camera, and soon I was taking pictures. Not of the seal, like everyone else, but of the 100 people now oohing and aahing at the seal.

Finally, 15 minutes after the seal first showed up, a white pickup with a rescue board in the back pulled up 30 feet away from the crowd. The driver was a man with tousled hair, dark sunglasses, and a light blue police uniform. He walked leisurely over to the crowd, pushed his way through, and asked a nearby person what was going on. But he didn't really need to be told. There was an adolescent seal being harassed by 100 curious humans. People looked at him, as if asking for guidance.

"Okay, everyone, take five steps back please," he said in a relaxed manner. I don't think the people really heard him, because instead of taking five steps back, they took one step in. After a few fruitless attempts to get the stubborn crowd to back up, the officer casually walked over to his truck and got out four bright orange cones, and set them up in a 10-foot square, telling everyone to move behind the cones. They listened this time. But the officer forgot one thing. The seal was moving, and it didn't seem to notice that it should stay within its allotted 10-foot square. The seal was getting even more frantic, and moving around in random directions. Some people shrieked when it got close to them, but most people never felt threatened by it. A few people would still pet it once in a while despite being told off by the officer every time. The officer was making calls now. He called on his cell phone, but I couldn't hear what he said because the crowd was very noisy. Then he made a call on his police radio. All the while, people kept getting closer and closer to the seal. The seal seemed to have created a bond with the officer, following him wherever he moved. One overweight woman with a camera phone and a large black purse kept suggesting outlandish things like carrying it to the water and coaxing it with steak.

I told my cross-country team that I was planning to do my OSO on this event when the crowd was in full swing. Jokingly, a few of my friends suggested that we try distracting the crowd away from the seal, using "mob psychology." The next thing I knew, my entire team of about 15 people was jumping up and down, pointing, and screaming at a rock that we had placed about twenty feet away from where everyone was gawking at the seal. A total of two people came over, tried to see what we were pointing at, looked at us like we were crazy, and went back to the seal crowd. Mob Psychology is harder than it looks. Still, it was thoroughly amusing.

The seal was making its way back into the water, having followed the officer slowly back towards the ocean. Thirty minutes after the whole thing started, the seal was swimming away from its large audience. Someone started clapping. A few seconds later, everyone was cheering. Some of the more adventurous people followed it into the water. People were still taking pictures of the terrorized seal as it frantically got away. The officer stood in the middle of the crowd, relieved that the seal had made it back to water. Then he picked up his orange cones, put them in his truck, and made another phone call. The crowd, having lost its reason to exist, promptly dispersed. If you had come two minutes after the seal left, you would have had no idea that there had just been a pack of 100 people standing there.

This event was a perfect example of mob psychology. It had leaders, followers, people telling it to stop, people telling to keep going (through their actions), and a motive for existence. Sadly, many of these people had probably never seen a real live seal so close before. Their overwhelming curiosity took hold of them, and they did things they would never do on their own. For example, a single person would never have started cheering for that seal after it made it back into the water. Once people felt they had the safety of the group, they did things they would normally be too scared to do. For example, many people petted the seal, something that they wouldn't do to a wild animal that was five times heavier than they were if they had come across it on their own.