Speeding through the Everglades on an airboat was a new experience. We had driven more than an hour from our resort on the gulf coast of Florida to experience the swamps. At last, our family of six piled into the boat and launched into the wild to become spectators of the local flora and fauna. Blue crab caught in a trap, egrets feasting on fish, families of racoons posing for the camera - they were all part of the southern Florida extravaganza. But the greatest spectacle of all was our captain, a born-and-bred, middle-aged local with a peculiar accent. Signage in the boat reminded us that he was part of the entertainment... working only for tips. With his dissheveled clothes and well-worn cap, he could easily have made a home among the homeless without looking misfit.
Off into the wild we went, having sunk $150 into the full-hour tour option. Here we were, halfway into the ride and a half hour from shore, when clouds began to gather and darken. I'm guessing this is a common occurrence because the captain was completely undaunted. Seeing the first few fat drops of precipitation, he pulled a large Visqueen "umbrella" from the rear of the boat and spread it like a blanket over our family. Seeking reassurance, our eldest daughter questioned the captain, "We're in the middle of a lake in a thunderstorm in a metal boat. If we get hit by lightning, will we all be killed?"
He paused to touch his chin, as he stood outside the tarp in the deluge. Without apology he replied simply, "I reckon."
Soon we were headed toward shore in a torrential downpour that we hoped wouldn't flood the boat and plunge us into alligator-infested water. The captain likely knew the way with his eyes closed, which is good because visibility was zero. We made it safely to the dock and he let us walk the tarp to our van. We must have looked like an alien centipede with our twelve legs and a body made of semi-transparent plastic. Piling into our van and slamming the doors, we bid farewell to the Everglades and our captain. About a half hour down the road we realized we didn't give him a tip.
Off into the wild we went, having sunk $150 into the full-hour tour option. Here we were, halfway into the ride and a half hour from shore, when clouds began to gather and darken. I'm guessing this is a common occurrence because the captain was completely undaunted. Seeing the first few fat drops of precipitation, he pulled a large Visqueen "umbrella" from the rear of the boat and spread it like a blanket over our family. Seeking reassurance, our eldest daughter questioned the captain, "We're in the middle of a lake in a thunderstorm in a metal boat. If we get hit by lightning, will we all be killed?"
He paused to touch his chin, as he stood outside the tarp in the deluge. Without apology he replied simply, "I reckon."
Soon we were headed toward shore in a torrential downpour that we hoped wouldn't flood the boat and plunge us into alligator-infested water. The captain likely knew the way with his eyes closed, which is good because visibility was zero. We made it safely to the dock and he let us walk the tarp to our van. We must have looked like an alien centipede with our twelve legs and a body made of semi-transparent plastic. Piling into our van and slamming the doors, we bid farewell to the Everglades and our captain. About a half hour down the road we realized we didn't give him a tip.
1 comment:
Love this. It's funny how the most uncomfortable moments turn out to be the most re-told family stories. That was one unforgettable boat ride.
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