“You want one?” Les asked from the other side of the truck bed. She held up an unopened Amstel Bright, condensation running down the side of the bottle onto her fingers. We had just finished a dive at The Rock.
“You brought beer?” I asked, which she obviously did, so it ended up being a stupid question. We didn’t usually bring beer with us on our dive excursions fearing they’d be stolen out of the truck. Les, in all her wisdom, stashed a few inside the bag we filled with water bottles and snacks.
We had completed the last dive of the day, so I said, “Sure.” Then I added, “You remember an opened?”
She didn’t answer, instead producing an opener from the back seat and making an exaggerated display of opening a bottle and handing it to me. Never doubt Double L!
Earlier, on Bari Reef, we found two frogfish. The first we had been briefed about and knew where to look. The other one we just happened upon. We also saw a burr fish and a large tarpon trailing some fishing line, a hook embedded in one of its fins. I have some shears attached to my BC, but no way he’d let me close enough to cut the line. It wasn’t like a turtle hung up in some soft corals.
We drank the beers while stowing our gear and getting out of our wetsuits. Sitting on the truck tailgate, we griped to each other about tomorrow being our last day on the island. How can two weeks go by so fast?
Before getting in the truck and heading back to Sanddollar, Les popped open two more “road pops” for the drive. Glad I brought her along.
About a mile up the road we noticed some police (or Politie in Papiamento) doing a random traffic stop. We’d seen several of these over the course of our stay, and word on the street is that the Police are cracking down on illegal motorists and vehicles, and are being more aggressive about detecting drunk drivers and open seals in vehicles.
We hadn’t been pulled over at the previous road checks, the Politie just waving us past. Probably something to do with us driving a rental vehicle (it says AB CarRental all over it) and not wanting to harass tourists. We felt pretty confident that we’d again get a pass.
But why take chances?
“Hide this,” I said to Double L as I handed her my open bottle of beer.
“What am I supposed to do with them?” She asked.
“I don’t know. If we’re stopped, someone will come up to my window, so just hide them beside your leg the best you can.”
Les tucked the bottles between her leg and the door and covered them with her arm. I still wasn’t worried, figuring we’d be waved through.
To my surprise, one officer walked into the street and waved me to the shoulder. Uh oh, I thought.
He walked over to the driver’s side window, leaned down, and said, “Driver license, please.” He was tall, forty-ish, and in obviously good physical condition. His voice exuded authority and it seemed the other officers, all younger, awaited his direction and guidance. The name tag pinned to his chartreuse green safety vest read Officer Ruud. I wasn’t sure exactly how to pronounce his name, but I hoped his demeanor didn’t match the obvious pronunciation.
I dug into my short’s pocket and produced my driver’s license from the waterproof wallet I carried. He looked it over, then looked at me.
After a short stare down, he motioned his head towards Les, “And, Mr. Goodwin,” he said, “who is the lady?” Leslie tightened. I sensed it more than I felt it and placed a hand on her forearm.
“She’s my wife, Leslie Goodwin.”
Officer Ruud looked at Leslie, then at me. “She is Double L?” He asked.
I held back a smile. “Sometimes, yes.”
He looked at Les. When he spoke, his voice was much softer, almost childlike. “You saved the turtle.” It was a statement not a question.
My smile slipped out and worked itself across my face. I found myself also looking at Les.
She nodded and simply said, “Yes.”
Officer Ruud smiled. Still looking at Les, he said, “You can pass.” He stood, barked something in Papiamento to the other officers, who all jumped to the side of the pavement. He waved us through and made a point of saying to Les, “Have a nice day. And thank you,” as we pulled forward, past the nodding and waving Politie officers.
Down the road, Double L handed me my beer. We clanked bottles and had a good laugh.
“Thanks Mother Nature,” she said.
Dive on Friends.
Dave & Leslie.