Life as an Idiom

On the second night in Freeport [Bahamas], I took a sunset “booze cruise”, whereby most of the passengers onboard drank to the point that they were vomiting overboard. Once we’d made a stumbled return to terra firma, I felt something brush along my backside. Reflexively, I groped, and found myself holding the arm of a boy trying to lift my wallet. In a half-stupor, I saw fear in his eyes as he labored to wriggle free of my grasp. I remember telling him to calm down, as if we were going to sit and analyze why he decided to steal from me, and why stealing is wrong. After a few seconds, I relinquished my hold, and he tore off into the dusk. After that, I made it a point to venture away from the resorts where buzzed tourists are easy pickings. So, on the following night (with my wallet in my front pocket), I went to some sort of block party where I was the only Caucasian present. Someone in the crowd gave me some chicken. I was hungry. I ate it. I would regret this decision the following morning, especially because I’d scheduled an all-day snorkeling tour. After spending the morning in a seaside outhouse that could’ve doubled as a sauna, I finally mustered the constitution to make the half-mile swim out to the reef. At first, it was breathtaking. It was like swimming in an aquarium! A barracuda came within inches of me, but I was calm, and unafraid. At one with nature…or so I thought.
About twenty yards away, or ten fathoms away, or whatever you use when you’re in the ocean, I saw a cloud suspended in the water. As it drew nearer with each successive wave, it became obvious that this floating fog was a horde of jellyfish, and hundreds of them at that. With scant time to react, the translucent invertebrates crashed upon me, and I futilely flailed my limbs in a panic, awaiting a plethora of pain. But, after a brief struggle, I began to realize that while their tentacles were smothering me, I had yet to be stung. Soon, they were carried off with the tide, leaving me unhurt. When I got back to shore, I told our local guides about the harrowing experience, and they told me (in the most stereotypical Banana Boat patois you could imagine) “Oh yeah…de jellyfish dat sting dey don’t come out ‘til de fall…bet it cause a fright if you don’ know. Maybe we shoulda said something ‘bout it.” I said, “Yeah, maybe.”