Hey! You lookin’ at me?

Carol and I were walking along the beach this morning hand in hand, staring into each other’s eyes almost dream-like… no seriously, she was 20 feet ahead of me, hunched over with her eyes scanning the latest gravel pile looking for loot to weigh down our suitcase, her caboose in the air looking very unlady-like. I, on the other hand was looking for real treasure; dead sea creatures that had been deposited on shore during the night.

Because I rarely reach the beach before 11, the airborne scavengers have usually dealt with many of the morning’s quality artifacts; but today we were out at a bleary-eyed 10:15 and it was a whole new world!

I started with a baby pufferfish just a few meters from our hotel. Despite them having enough toxins in them to kill an average human being in a gut- twisting, agonizing last few hours, they conjure up a sympathetic response because they look so helpless with their swollen body, protruding eyes, and that perma-grin mouth. Of course they are covered in spines and the last thing that you want to do is step on one. On I went. So, another puffer, then a bit farther along a smallish sardine-like silver fish, and then THE HOLY GRAIL!!

About 20 feet from the water in an almost-question mark position was a famed Mexican needlefish! It consisted of an eel-like, armadillo-plated body and tail, with a crocodile snout at the front, with dozens of back-facing teeth. It’s not necessarily something you’d want in your 20 gallon saltwater aquarium eyeballing your guppies and angelfish… or you!

Anyways, it was time for a photo shoot with Croc McNasty. It looked so menacing, even though I was pretty sure something like this couldn’t survive on land, I was wary to get too close.

My first thought for a photo was to go eyeball to eyeball laying down in the sand facing him (I’m assuming that there was nothing feminine in it’s appearance, so it is a him) in some stupid Dennis-like pose; maybe wagging my finger at him saying “Bad dog!”. But cooler heads prevailed and I decided to go the Lauren Bacall, nonchalant-look and sit beside him, pectorals flexed, staring out to sea. Yup, classy look for sure. Although I still kept a wary eye on him as my mind whirred with all of the grisly wounds that I would suffer had there been ANY life left in him.

Then suddenly, without warning, there was movement by it’s head!! Imitating my best walk-on-hot-coals move I was fully upright with bare toes curled inward and my hand over my groin! WTF!

A hermit crab had chosen that moment to expose itself from it’s home in the sand right against the terrifying sea predator that probably still had a gut full of human appendages inside! Moving sideways, it found what it was looking for and burrowed back into the sand just 10cm from where it appeared.

My phone (Fred) had fallen out of my hand and was lying across the creature’s back. I looked down dumbfounded at what would be required to save poor Fred. On his face he was displaying the ridiculous picture of my sister and Carol jumping in the air (or attempting to) when we were at the Spanish Banks last fall. His blue dot blinking in the top left corner, like a tech heartbeat, pulsating in perfect rhythm. He was wearing his Otterbox Commuter outer shell… damn I wish I would have sprung for the Defender model, but hey it was two bucks more!

Man or mouse, who am I? Carol refused to reach down and save our faithful companion’s life, and in fact was already in her nose-to-the-beach pose. Heartless. With a wincing swipe I went in like a helicopter scooping troops off a beachfront brushing one fingernail against the scaly alien creature and triumphantly raising my arm to full victory height, Fred looking admiringly down from my fingertips! Yes! My manhood once more proven to my loved one, you are forever safe my love, oh and you too Carol.

Well after that scintillating encounter it was all downhill after that on the Great Beach Hunt. Just a couple more puffers, more crabs, some honey bees writhing in the sand, which surprisingly is a common site on this beach. They tend to sting your foot when you are in the process of driving their fuzzy bodies deep into the wet sand as you’re checking out the restaurants and condos dotting the seaside.

No, this beach requires your head to be on a swivel. To the left is the beautiful bay, to the right are the man-made wonders with barbecued seafood on patios bringing you to nasal orgasm. Looking up, you have the pelicans and frigatebirds sailing in the morning breeze, and looking down you have all types of dangers that could disrupt the rest of your life, compliments of Poseidon.

Carol says I’ll have to go back and get a wheelbarrow to collect her rocks, which are certainly destined for the garbage bin on the morning that we leave. Oh, and did I mention that I’m NEVER going into the ocean again unless it’s in a submarine!