I think my sister, Pat and I were college age at the time. We were down at St. Simon’s Island, facing each other, lengthwise, in our rope hammock, my foot on the ground to keep us swinging. It was hot and humid and we were trying to create a breeze of sorts.

We were talking about these two boys, Butch and Sonny, friends of ours who lived on the island, hoping they’d call and take us skiing. They called, but instead of water skiing, they asked us to double date that night. They were very mysterious about where we were going. “Dress casual,” they said.

We’d known these two characters for years and knew they were pranksters, so we were a bit hesitant; but we figured we could help each other out of whatever crazy scheme they were concocting.

We wore shorts, shirts, and Keds. That’s what we called sneakers back then.  We figured we were probably going to the drive-in movie or maybe bowling. When they arrived, they had on bathing suits, tee shirts and flip flops. They weren’t kidding when they said casual.

Well, we did go for burgers, first, but when it got dark, they asked if we’d like to go for a boat ride. “Sure,” we said, thinking of their great ski boats. But they didn’t head for the place where they kept their boats. They turned onto this dark dirt road with bushes closing in on both sides. Kinda claustrophobic and spooky. It wasn’t looking good.

“Okay, guys, where are we going?”

Butch grinned. “Different kind of boat.”

Sonny said, “Yeah, we want to show yall something really cool.”

So far, it looked anything but. We finally came to an open, swampy area.  It was dark, humid and smelly. The guys had flashlights. There was a grubby old row boat, half out of the water. Pat and I looked at it in all its unappealing glory, and reluctantly got in. The guys turned off their flashlights and handed us a lantern to hold, then they sloshed into the water, pushing us off. 

We were in some backwater, somewhere, nobody else around.  Our lantern was the only light. And, aside from this being not at all what we’d expected, an army of mosquitoes attacked Pat and me! Apparently, the guys had sprayed themselves without offering us any!

My sister got right to the point. “Okay, why are we here? Are we looking for something in particular?”

They were grinning. “Have you ever seen mullet jump?”

Scratching, furiously, we ‘llowed as how we hadn’t.

“Hold the lantern up,” they said.

We did, and all of a sudden, it felt like hundreds of little fish were jumping all over Pat and me.

They were in our laps, in our hair! One jumped down Pat’s front—totally disgusting! We screamed. Naturally.

“Mullet jumping,” they said, laughing. “They’re drawn to the light.”

“Well, thanks, guys, that was a blast,” we said, shoving the lantern at them, and trying to rid ourselves of the slimy little creatures.

They thoroughly enjoyed introducing us to mullet jumping, which, by the way, is a smelly business! I had to laugh later, when I realized we’d probably smelled up their car. Ha!

They took us home, chuckling off and on. We didn’t invite them in. Instead, we raced to the bathrooms to shower off the fish smell! Then, after putting Calamine lotion on our mosquito bites, the two of us shared a quart of Rocky Road and had a ball thinking up ways to get them back.