The dolphins...

It was warm. 80 degrees they said.

I had my eye on fish-burgers personally, while everyone else seemed intent on taking the long way round.

By Captains time we would likely spend the entire trip out here past the reef, today. Good day to play in the sunshine.

The boat ride past the keys was always a long one. But there were whale sharks out there, weren't there? Or so we said.

All crew on the boat told the same story it seemed, passed down from one ship's mate to the next. "Whale sharks! Oh yes! We have - I mean, they have frequently been seen." I'd already been to the Coconut Islands for more than three months, and had I seen anything? Nah. But I could spin the dolphin tales like the best of them. It seemed to be a really big part of my job, which had been a suprise to me.

Christmas morning excitement, that's was this was. And it turns out being a ship's mate on a diving charter is more about finesse than it is truly about finding the 'big one'.

So, after I had finally lost the last of my new staff cookies over the stern of our boat during training, I fully embraced this new spin casting duty, weaving stories along with the days forecast on our way to and from home base for diving excursions each day.

"Sunny with a side of UV! Get your tourist hats on!" I bellowed across the ship to our scrambling, noodle leg charter guests of the day. I wanted them to get themselves prepared for the sun beating awaiting them on the long 'run' round.

"Be on the look out!" I'd say, every single time. "You never know what you could see! Keep your eyes on the water - you just might be the very first Whale Shark spotter today!"

It was fun. I loved hollering like a mock pirate across the decks and they ate it up like Caribbean Jonny Cakes every single time.

Not this week, however. I do lie.

It was a Ninja Warriors retreat on the big Island and I had just so happened to be working at Norm and Julies on the west side last night. Spinning up burgers, mahi mahi and Cuba Libras like the rum was about to be banned on these islands. Nothing tastes quite the same at 'home' as it does down on the beach covered in white, white and almost pink, sand. I never drank Coke in my 'real life', but man did those bottles go down good on the beach with two slices of lime - Mmmmmmmm.

"Fish taco's anyone??" I shouted my vote to make a stop for the best greasy fish stand I had found in these islands.

We had been on the water for less than 4 hours and the weather was fine, but they, the famously resilient American Ninja Warriors, from the famous wildly adventurous realty tv world, we dropping like flies.

They had been up all night it seemed - and no sleep, mega sun, many Libras leading to a sell out of the good rum, and they were down for the count in no time.

"What do you mean??! Get up you lazy athletes! It's time to Caribbean Island Hop train." I heckled the shit out of those super humans. And all they could do was agree. They were down and out and I never once saw a glimmer of show biz in single one of them. I did however see a lot of barf. That's the thing. Don't drink and dive they told me. And for the most part it was truth. But if you don't realize, for lack of personal experience you don't know the secret of the post drinking dive therapy...

It ends - the magical second you submerge your body beneath the sea, she holds your cookies in!

So rather than torturing these mighty barfers over the sights of grilled fish and carcasses of meat, we let them off the hook so they could relieve their nauseated blindness with a dive under the sea.

Wheeee! They were smiling like little kid warriors the next time that I saw them. Eyes popping out, masks askew in their excitement.

"We saw the whale shark!! He's down there right now!" they exclaimed. By this time, they were drunk on love, it seemed.

And low and behold they were truth telling.

I really did get my promised whale shark sighting that day. Thanks to the nausea of a pack of wild American Ninja Warriors, we all gained a good story that day.

And on the ships ride home, we did end up stopping for those greasy fish taco's, burgers and other delights of the keys.

And wouldn't you know it, before rounding the last bend home to drop off this tattered Ninja Warrior team we scored the dream...

Seven singing dolphins jumped in the wake of our boat, chitt chattering and sharing their stoke with us directly, it seemed. What a gift. The dolphins came. And to our hearts, exploding in love, the dolphins, they sang.