Island Paradise, numero tresby Cl. Panic, unpaid guest blogger

NN is sooooo demanding these days. I mean, here I am, on vacation, and all she can say is "only five fish?" As though I don't have wayyy more important things to do than float around and take pictures of fish! If I keep having to post pictures of fish, I'm going to petition my union rep for immediate tartar sauce status.

After consuming a few shots of Mexican life-blood last night, I got a tad artistic and took the above picture at the resort. On account of the drinking I couldn't be sure that I had it right side up the next morning. Thankfully, though, my fellow drunks the gold folks at Canon included a drunk-sensor that makes sure the pictures are right-side-up when downloaded.

Enough of that. Drinking and diving don't mix! After a plenty of [bottled] water and a good night's sleep, I was back in the water, armed with my camera. After navigating some swim-throughs, Jose*, our dive master, started banging on his tank.

Now, that banging either means that someone screwed up and better stop touching to coral, or else it means... holy &*%$, a shark! And this time he meant holy &*%$. Sure, it's not a big shark. And it probably doesn't eat people. No matter how you slice it, the damned thing's related to Jaws. Just to keep that slave driver happy, I swam in nice and close for a photo. Even though he lacks bones, he's still a fish. Or she. I didn't check under the tail.

There were other fish throughout the rest of the dive. Like this one. And a grouper that was a couple of feet long and pretty camera friendly. Like the Paris Hilton of the grouper world. Speaking of which, is it true? Being somewhat cut-off from the U.S. "news," I feel like the last person to hear the rumor that Paris Hilton is in jail? I mean, really, what is America coming to these days? You used to be able to buy your innocence. Must be that darned liberal Congress or something.

During a little surface interval, we paid a visit to the magical Conch Tree. Ancient legend says that one who hangs a conch shell receives good luck. That's what the doctor in our dive group said. Jose laughed at us. He said that the locals had no idea why gringos felt the need to tie shells to a piece of driftwood. Valid point.

We all decided to do a night dive. I was hoping to see some spotted eagle rays or some octopodes, as in more than one octopus. (I didn't shell out for Bryan A. Garner's book for nothing, you know!) Unfortunately, I had no such luck. Some sleeping fish, an eel, and more turtles. All of this diving sure is rough. I mean, look at what it's doing to my fingers. Someone better watch out, or she'll have a workers comp claim to deal with. We all arrived safely back ashore and got ready to head in for the evening.

On the way back to my room, I was encountered by a gigantic moth. What? The shoes? Quite comfy, really.

What's in store tomorrow? Just you wait and see!


* Yes, his real name. Even though NN insists on anonymity, I figure that's just about as close to a needle-in-a-haystack as you can get.