The dolphins are exceptionally talented at Dolphin Cove.

After about an hour or so, we were told that the tricks were done and that the show was over. We clapped at the legitimately good work performed by the trainer and his dolphins and exited the pool. I was relieved. An attendant waiting on the entrance side of the pool smilingly took our vests and the dolphins resumed play on their own. They wouldn’t have to do it again for another hour or so. After handing off my vest, I made my way over to the area near the complex lobby and found our bus guide sitting under a gazebo, talking with other guides. I was starting to notice a pattern. A large part of my various guides and chaperones days were relegated to waiting for folks like me to do the same thing day in and day out. Being from a city like New Orleans, which too has a strong tourism economy, I understood this ritual well. She was now nursing a handkerchief and actively blowing her nose. While I’m not necessarily a hypochondriac–it’s totally going to sound like I’m a hypochondriac–I tend to bring my “just-in-case” medicines with me when I travel. Our guide had been hustling so hard and had been so considerate and funny, it pained me to see her sick, so I dug into my bag and I gave her a few packs of Alka-Seltzer. “Here”, I said handing over the medicine. “Take this”. “What is it?”, she asked, looking both appreciative and cautious. “Alka-Seltzer”, I replied. “You get a little water in a cup, put the tablets in and when they dissolve, drink it. It’ll make you feel better.” She nodded and thanked me, in her usual joking way, sent me away and advised that to ride on the speedboat with one of the park guides. I expressed that I didn’t know that was a thing, but suddenly felt happy all the same.