Abrasion Woman and Muttering Man, aka, the Ugly Americans in Puerto Rico

by T. M. Boyd
            “Two to the left…No, your other left.”

            Thwack.

            “Ouch!”

            The Ugly Americans strike again.  This time they spent an interminable forty-five minutes piloting their kayak into mangrove trees en route to a lagoon to view bioluminescent dinoflagellates.  And I had the misfortune to be stuck behind them.  And then beside them in the lagoon as they complained to the tour guide.  I didn’t escape them until the trip was over and I was back in the bay in Fajardo.

            We spent a night touring the Bio Bay in Fajardo, Puerto Rico, with Island Kayaking Adventures.  The trip should have been a fun one, and in many respects it was.  Heading out just before 9:00 PM to kayak through a channel in a mangrove swamp to a lagoon where bioluminescent dinoflagellates congregate.  Then paddle back to the bay in Fajardo and do some shopping among the local artisans who had set up tables next to the Bio Bay tour operators.  For me, a kayak trip beats drinks at a bar and dancing at a disco every time.

But it is hard to get through a narrow channel when the kayak in front of you is perpendicular to the flow of the water and has its nose buried in a tangle of mangrove branches.  Repeatedly.

I should have known what to expect when I perused our group for the evening and found a half a dozen older couples that were extremely well preserved.  Retirement age, but looking much younger.  The ladies, especially, had their hair perfectly peroxided and styled.  They had to have escaped from the wrangler on their cruise ship, I’m just not sure how…probably nagged the poor soul to death.

First they were concerned about the security of leaving their shoes in a blue tub to sit on the beach while they were out kayaking.  Then they couldn’t feel the darkness around them as we hit the channel in the mangrove swamp, and spent the trip out and back being dribbled back and forth between the edges of the channel like a basketball.  They got so turned around and fell so far behind the tour group, they lost sight of the blue lights in front of them (every tour operator has a different color light on their life jackets so that they can identify their tour members) and had to have the tour guide bringing up the rear shine his flashlight on the channel in front of them so they could see where they were going.  And on one of the collisions, the woman I will forevermore refer to as Abrasion Woman scraped her nose on a branch.

It would have been exhausting had it not been so aggravating.

Then we got to the lagoon and they could not figure out how to paddle their kayak alongside another.  I finally had to grab Muttering Man’s paddle and pull him in.  Yes, I had to sit RIGHT NEXT TO THEM during the lagoon lecture.  And when Miguel, the lead tour guide, told us to swish our hands and/or our paddles in the water to get the dinoflagellates to luminesce, Muttering Man grumbled, “Then why did you make us park side by side?”

But his grousing could not hold a candle to his wife’s, Abrasion Woman’s, complaining to Miguel when she could have been swishing with the rest of us.  I wish I were making up this exchange.

“Excuse me, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“During the journey out here I was hit in the face by a branch and I now have an abrasion on my nose.”

Not a scratch.  Not a cut.  Not a scrape.  An abrasion.

I have to hand it to Miguel and the other tour guides (Abe and Nave).  They were extremely conscientious about examining her abrasion and promising to get her medical treatment as soon as they returned to the dock.  They were so courteous and concerned that they eventually got Abrasion Woman to back down and admit that her injury was not severe enough to require such measures.

And the whole time this was going on, her paddle was hitting me in the legs.  I so badly wanted to tap her on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, but your paddle is abrading my shins.  Would you move it, please?”

I can’t recall now why I didn’t.  I’m certain she never knew that her paddle was assaulting me.

And therein lies the frustration that the rest of the world has with the Ugly American – they are so swathed in privilege and entitlement that they forget the world does not revolve around them.  The Ugly American is absolute in his or her belief that others should bend to accommodate them.  The fact that the Ugly American is in someone else’s home is irrelevant.  Have they never heard the phrase, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do?”

I made the statement a few paragraphs earlier about the Preserved Ones’ inability to feel the darkness around them.  What I meant by that was they had absolutely no awareness of where they were or what was in their vicinity.  The mangrove trees were home to any number of insects and animals, including iguanas and Puerto Rican boas, and when any humans wandered too close to the trees, everything became hushed and expectant.  If you were paying attention, you could literally feel the dark pressing back against you.  And you knew to paddle away for a stroke or two, which would take you back to the center of the channel.  But Abrasion Woman and Muttering Man, as well as most of their friends, could not perceive that.  Apparently, in their minds, the branches and animals should have given way to them.

They didn’t even have the sense to look up.  The trip in was cloudy, but the cloud cover had lifted by the time we headed back.  In many parts of the channel, the canopy was open.  If you looked up and could see stars, you were in the center of the channel and clear of the mangroves.  That seems so painfully obvious to me!  But they were too busy demanding light from a tour guide’s flashlight to look at what they were asking the tour guides to illuminate.  Tragic.

And embarrassing for those of us who are not so self-absorbed but were a part of the tour group and associated with them nonetheless.  Miguel commented to my friend how badly behaved our group was, and I am forced to agree.  Even I couldn’t wait to flee from the cruise ship escapees, and I had been looking forward to this particular tour for weeks.

The next time I am in Puerto Rico (and I am definitely going back) I intend to take this tour again.  And if there are any Ugly Americans in my next tour group, I fear I may push them off their kayaks and into the channel.  I have no doubt I will have made it to the lagoon and back before they manage to scrabble back into their kayaks. 

They’ll be too busy bickering and complaining.