Amongst the five of us travelers, there was a discussion about whether we should take a sunset cruise or a whale watching cruise. Whale watching, whale watching, oh please, oh please, oh please. The majority decided on the sunset cruise. Boo to the hoo.
We boarded a catamaran with the hunkiest deckhand in Mexico. True story. His name was Kale which coincidentally rhymes with whale. This is the back of him because taking a picture of the front of him would be too obvious. And desperate. Maybe even pathetic. Notice the cool tattoo on his right calf. I did. Often.
Nonie and I sure were having fun on that cruise with the mai tais, the sunset, the girls, the scenery. Kale.
The captain came on deck to tell us that the whales have been active and we should look out yonder. Whales on the sunset cruise? Oh please, oh please, oh please. I was scanning the water constantly, but the sun was going down and the water started looking blacker so every ten seconds I thought I saw a whale. False story. I gave up my search and told myself to enjoy the night, stop whining about the whales, get over it sista. You still have Kale to look at.
And shortly thereafter, that’s when I saw a spout of water in the air and I jumped up in the boat screaming, “THERE’S A WHALE!!! THERE’S A WHALE!!!” I took this pic……….
Which won’t make the next issue of National Geographic. Or ever. Moby gave a slap of his tail and headed down to the underbelly of the ocean. It was the best day. Ever.
