On our honeymoon, we stayed at a quintessential Hawaiian resort that spilled right onto the beach, had a view of Diamondhead and boasted resident dolphins in a private cove that would click at the guests, smiling and winking. I had a basic, second-hand understanding that dolphins could identify cancerous tumors with their sonar and I thought it would be prudent to get checked out. So I suggested we sign up to swim with them.
But when that day came, I had a pimple on my upper lip. I couldn’t determine whether the facemasks we were supposed to wear would touch the zit. I tried to judge just how far down that mask would go on my own cheek. Would it touch the tender spot? Burst it? Who would wear that mask immediately before me? Immediately after?
As the groom from another recently-married couple entered the water, he followed the instructions to move this way or that alongside the animal.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“It’s like a horse,” I said.
My new husband looked at me strangely and shook his head in disbelief.
But there was no way I was going in the water with both a pimple and an enormous animal I barely knew. Nope.
So I captured a lovely picture of my husband kissing that dolphin and hung it next to our wedding photo in matching gallery frames.