Anybody who has ever been to St. Pete's beach can't help but get a little bit caught up in the shell collecting.

When I went there, I picked up the general half to two inch shells.

On my way back from the beach on the last day of my trip, I saw what appeared to be a small shell sticking out of the sand.

"Just leave it," my father said "We don't need any more junky shells."

Being the defiant person that I am, I reached down and picked it up.
What I thought to be a shell was actually just the top of a very large shell that was about half a foot in length.
There was even another shell of the same size right next to it.

Both of the shells are still displayed on my downstairs mantle to this day.