“Get down.” Jon whispered, “Lower. Even lower.”
I squatted in the dark, my hands planted in the dirt, bracing myself. ‘What would be the best pose to make to blend in with the jungle?’, I thought desperately.
I could see the headlines now: Mainland Teacher Gets Caught in an Awkward Position, while Hiding in the Bushes of Puerto Rico. And there would be my mug shot, dirt on my face and leaves in my hair.
The ranger would begin to question me and I would fumble with a cover story. Even now I was struggling to come up with a valid reason for why we walked so far down on the deserted, dirty portion of the beach, through nearly impassable sections, only to turn inward. And what possible reason could we have had for leaving the water and fighting our way through bushes and trees that refused to part and let us through? And then, once we were sufficiently scratched and covered in leaves, why did we decide not to follow the paved road but instead hide ourselves and make a home amongst the varied prickly plants? If we were lost, then surely we would have walked towards the park ranger that drove past us and asked for directions home.
No, there was no logical explanation for our actions, except for the truth.
And the truth was, that we had purposefully decided against joining the group of merry kayakers who paddled by moonlight to a remote inlet. Instead, we followed them on foot, watched as they paddled into the inlet, disembarked from their kayaks to cross the paved road and then reentered their kayaks at the mouth of the bioluminescent pond. Rather than pay money we concluded we would prefer to hone our tracking and beach walking skills for free and still hopefully enjoy the beauty of this bioluminescent pond; the sole objective of our endeavor. A much more thrilling experience than any of the kayakers were going to have, that’s for sure.
What we did not anticipate though was a pudgy guardsman who followed the kayakers out of the water, across the access road and then smartly took up shop at the mouth of the pond. It was here that he sipped from his coke can and hummed a little tune to himself while we hid in the bushes nearby, trying to devise a plan to get past him.
“Let’s just go and ask him if we can have a look.”
“Oh, I just don’t think he’ll let us. Or he’ll start to ask how we got here.”
But our conversation was cut short by the two glaring headlights of an oncoming jeep.
“Shit.”, we whispered simultaneously.
We dove back into the brambling, prickly bushes. And there I stood, in my best imitation of a flamboyant tree, praying that the park ranger would not discover me in this pathetic state. I could hear him now, saying, “And what possessed you to stand in this odd manner? You are aware of what a tree looks like, right?”
If I was lucky, maybe he would fall over laughing and forget to handcuff me.
When the lights passed and the jeep was far enough away I straightened, brushed the dirt off my hands and pulled a twig out of my hair. I was drenched in sweat.
“Well, now that I am filthy and terrified, I am thinking that maybe the ticket price was worth it.”