On a spring-break trip in the Florida Keys, eight of us decided to camp out on a barrier island. It was supposed to be a remote key, roughly two miles out. But after three hours of paddling, we realized the "island" was only a mangrove forest, and we had to paddle back. Daylight was fading fast. An hour into the return trip, cold and exhausted, we called search-and-rescue. But since there wasn't a medical emergency, we were advised to contact a towing service. We couldn't afford it, so we kept paddling. Soon a pontoon boat came sidling up. The captain yelled, "Need a lift?" It wasn't until we were on board that we noticed the boat was labeled Couples Massage Trips. While explaining to the captain how we'd gotten stuck, we began hearing passengers down below—passengers in the throes of passion and not modest in the least. After 15 minutes, an attractive woman came up and told the captain he was needed below. She took the wheel, and he headed down. Within minutes, another "couples massage" had begun. When we reached land, we quietly drove to the nearest pizza place and ate in silence. It was the best pizza I've ever eaten. And, yes, it was the most beautiful silence I have ever heard.