The wind, a solid, in-your-face, 20-knot cast-crippler with gusts strong enough to take even the best-secured ball cap and send it flying into the clear Caribbean, forced me to turn my “good ear” toward seasoned Bahamian guide Travis Sands, just to hear his instructions.
He was frustrated. I was frustrated.
“I said, ‘Don’t strip!’” he hollered from the polling platform.