found drama

My mom and I are making our way down a series of long corridors. It’s a little dark and damp but that’s to be expected from (what exactly is this place?) a seaport. We’ve got our respective bags slung over our shoulders and are looking forward to a little boat ride. (It is a boat ride, isn’t it?) We navigate through a locker room and get down to a boarding area. It’s a network of small docks where variously sized (but all relatively small) boats are convening. Most of the boats are loaded with scuba gear. We find the pier that matches the number indicated on our tickets and march over. A small dinghy pulls up and a woman in a navy blue wetsuit greets us. She makes a few remarks about trying out the scuba gear (which we do) and as we’re loading ourselves onto the boat, she comments further on our bags. She says something to the effect of: “You might want to just stow those in one of the lockers. We’ve already procured some phony passports for you and we wouldn’t want any conflicting identification like driver’s licenses or different passports or anything.” My mom and I look at each other. We know she’s right but for some reason this seems (all of the sudden) to be a lot more espionage and intrigue than we’d bargained for. (A little Total Recall-ish but without the Martians.) So I nod to the woman in the wetsuit that I’ll be right back. I jump out of the boat and run back to the locker room with both my bag and mom’s bag, looking for two lockers that are side-by-side. Of course, they’re all coin-op and all I have are dollar bills. But even then, where are the keys for these coin-op lockers?

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