It was a Monday night, I think, and we’d spent the afternoon at the beach followed by dollar drinks at happy hour. We followed that with seafood nachos during which the woman at the next table was “taking pictures for her MySpace” and letting us all know. So, if you see me on the MySpace page of a girl from Tennessee and I’m either eating nachos or helping myself to water behind the bar (gotta love the bartenders down there) or generally acting silly, you’ll know this was the night I referred to as The Night I Pretended I Was Still In College. All the dumb and carefree of twenty-one, but with more finances.
Around 9:00 we were ready to head back to the house. And I know 9:00 p.m. sounds early, but you have to consider that when happy hour starts at 3:00, you’ve been in the sun all day, and the fact that the entire island all but goes dark by 10:00, 9:00 is a perfectly acceptable time to head to your bed and, well, do whatever. But it’s generally safe to say that the wee hours of the morning are pretty quiet on small Caribbean islands. So we paid our bill and headed out.
“Wait! The bioluminescence!”
My friend shouted this, without reserve, in the middle of the road on a Monday night. And I’ll tell you right now that my first thought was “great, we’re going to be hauling someone up the stairs tonight” because the word bioluminescence is not just something that flies out of your mouth after a day like that. Too many syllables, for one thing. It took me a minute to realize that yes, I had actually heard this word before.
“We have to go see it! We may never see it again.”
Arm? Twisted. Which is a really tough thing to do when I’m down there, you know. I’m pretty much the most flexible, opportunistic version of myself once I get some salt water air in my lungs and sand between my toes. So off we went to the bay where we were most likely to see bioluminescence. And for those that don’t know what I’m talking about, luckily for all of us Wikipedia does. And here are a couple other sites that will help illustrate it, too. Basically, what we were about to see were tiny organisms in the water that, when agitated, give off a very noticeable glow.
So we pull up to the beach and park and though I’ve never once felt uneasy or afraid on this island, part of me could not get over how dark it was. And the sky down there, the stars, oh my. It is dark, dark, dark except the stars. But that’s above. In front of you, and on the ground beneath you there is nothing but pitch black. Which is actually the best way to step into the water and witness an immediate glow around your foot. Then both of your feet. Then your legs. Then the rest of you as you slide your way through the dark waters of the ocean and watch your every move appear in the water in a bright, green glow.
Oh. My. Heck.
I was amazed instantly. I moved through the water in a feeling of pure and utter astonishment like I haven’t felt in… I don’t know how long. I’m sure if someone would have taken a picture of me in those moments my jaw would have been dropped and my eyes wide. My friends and I splashed through the water, running backward to watch the glowing trail we’d leave in our wake. We laughed and yelled and I felt like I was a kid again. While it rarely takes much to amuse me, it takes a lot to amaze me. I was amazed.
We must have played in that water, like a bunch of bumbling idiots, for an hour. I just couldn’t get over it, and I didn’t want to. It was living, touchable proof of how those islands and, well, life continue to impress me. Though I’d spent the earlier part of that Monday evening pretending I was still in college, I went ahead and retitled this night as The Night of the Bioluminescence. If you ever get the chance to see it, or really just find yourself with any chance to genuinely feel like you’re ten-years-old again, DO IT.
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