Not long ago I was snorkeling near Roseau at dusk when a cruise ship the size of an aircraft carrier, as brightly lighted as Times Square, devastatingly ugly and with countless tatty 'outside' cabins somehow hanging off every square foot of space above the waterline, hove into view. It was a real monstrosity, the floating embodiment of vulgar tawdry tastelessness.
I began to imagine that my mask was a periscope, that I was at the helm of a submarine, plotting our convergent course and calculating the path of an imaginary torpedo with a half-ton of explosives in its head, set to intercept directly amidships and just under the damned thing, removing the supporting sea for an explosive instant and cracking its wretched back.
By then it was full dark so I swam to shore, making my way back to my little house, and mentally modifying my plans for the next morning in order to keep me as far away from the cruise ship pier and all that ugliness and noise as possible.
I began to imagine that my mask was a periscope, that I was at the helm of a submarine, plotting our convergent course and calculating the path of an imaginary torpedo with a half-ton of explosives in its head, set to intercept directly amidships and just under the damned thing, removing the supporting sea for an explosive instant and cracking its wretched back.
By then it was full dark so I swam to shore, making my way back to my little house, and mentally modifying my plans for the next morning in order to keep me as far away from the cruise ship pier and all that ugliness and noise as possible.