Touch and Glow - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 186

“Bio-flagellates,” one of her male colleagues exclaimed, rushing in from the sidelines.
“When you disturb them, they glow,” he explained, shooting Cate's persecutor a stern look.
“Kind of like when someone hassles you and you start crying.”
“I do not,” the little boy sulked.
It was going to be that kind of night.
After our less than inspiring orientation, we were loaded into a yellow school bus that
appeared to have migrated south from Mayberry RFD around 1960.
It was pleasant enough cruising through Esperanza in this antique conveyance, but
when we hit the deeply potholed road leading to the beach the ride was slightly less relax-
ing (think permanent disability).
Once we arrived at our destination we were herded over shallow dunes to a pontoon
boat moored in a shallow, murky bay. It was a moonless night (one of the chief criteria for
optimal viewing of bioluminescence is a lack of moonlight), which made progress difficult
over the uneven terrain. But soon we were all safely on board.
The first of the evening's many spontaneous whoops of delight erupted from the pas-
sengers when the boat gurgled out into the water, agitating millions of tiny flagellates into
states of frenzied luminescence. The boat's wake glowed like neon.
Yes, it was pretty cool.
☼ ☼ ☼
Although I've spent a good part of my life on islands and am perpetually mesmerized by
the sight of the ocean, I've never been terribly keen on actually getting into the water. My
first doubts about aquatic immersion occurred on a childhood visit to Daytona Beach when
a crab bit my toe. My doubts became a certainty, a few years later, after seeing Jaws .
Ten years ago, during a visit to Key West, Michael signed us up for a clothing-optional
snorkeling cruise. I was fine with the clothing optional part, but the prospect of snorkeling
left me cold. However, I agreed to go, and at first everything seemed fine.
The boat was beautiful, the captain was appropriately jolly and our fellow passengers
looked fine in their birthday suits.
But it was February, and although we were in Key West, it was an unusually chilly
month and the water was downright cold. Nonetheless, every last person donned flippers
and a mask and leapt into the water with gay (yes, I said it) abandon—except the captain
and me.
“Too chilly for these old bones,” was his excuse. And when I offered no excuse at all
he said, “Let's play cards.”
While Michael and his fellow snorkelers thrashed around in the choppy waves, the cap-
tain taught me to play two-handed solitaire, which got us through the better part of the af-
ternoon.