The one goal I had for our trip to Cancun was to meet a dolphin. The entire time my 12 year old mind did nothing but fantasize about a play date with a long lost aquatic friend. So, when I found myself in a dolphin cove waiting to experience the value pack dolphin adventure my dad financed, you can imagine my excitement. The instructions were clear: Tread water in the middle of the dock-encircled cove, listen for the whistle, wait for two dolphin figures to rise from beneath, grab both dorsal fins, stand up on the backs of the dolphins, spread your arms and legs wide, and smile for the photographer and tourists. It seemed easy enough. The time came. The moment I had been waiting for. I felt the water rise, I grabbed the fins, heard the crowd's anticipatory cheers, I could taste the salt water. I arose from the cove. But, instead of my ultimate dream experience, my bottoms fell to my knees. My twelve year old butt was exposed for all the workers behind, my pre-pubescent front to the rest of the horrified tourists. No one clapped. I forgot to smile for the camera.