Admitting to dancing with a chair at a lively nightclub is pathetic, at best. But in Florida beach towns the ratio of hims to hers almost guarantees a good time. But no, he and his friend were simply having too much fun to share it intelligently or even romantically with someone else. It was one of those college trips where the phrase, “this is insane,” was heard many times.
As he crossed the parking lot he looked back to see his buddy attempting to bring his dancing chair with him. They naturally headed for the beach and the surf. The pickup truck with the camper top, that all eight called home for the week, was parked at the usual spot right, on the beach. Only in Daytona.
They agreed without saying so, that even though it was late, they were not ready for the snoring and the gaseous exchange that the certainly awaited them in the camper. So they stripped down and a moment later they were naked and running out into the ocean tide as it began to rise in the early morning hours. Looking back he could see the lights of the hotels lining the beach. And then turning eastward he could only see the darkness. He liked the darkness.
Suddenly, and that word clearly describes the abrupt sensation of a truck tire rubbing across his thigh. It took about three ticks to register that perhaps night feeding was under way. He looked back at his friend, some twenty feet away and heard him scream out loudly, yet somewhat muffled by his own preoccupation with survival.
They both were panic swimming and then high stepping until they felt dry sand under their feet. “Did you feel that?......yeah!....that was so cool.” Though never wanting to admit this either, but that moment changed his thinking on ocean swimming, at least at night.
