Just My Type

I Survived The Bermuda Triangle—Sort Of!

By Mary Ellen

Hurricane season in the Atlantic, Caribbean, and Gulf of Mexico began June 1st, and I know all of Florida will breathe a collective sigh of relief when it officially ends on November 30th.

Having to deal with high winds, torrential rain, stormsurge flooding, and the possibility of tornadoes inland is bad enough. Anyone at sea on a commercial vessel or cruise ship during those months must also contend with dangerous ocean swells and waterspouts. Depending on your destination, possibly even the Bermuda Triangle, a region in the Western part of the Atlantic Ocean where ships and aircrafts have allegedly disappeared without a trace.

The cruise I sailed on, which I wrote about in the Sep./Oct. 2016 issue (“Leisure Cruising? Not Smooth Sailing for Me”), passed through that famous geographic anomaly. No one saw much of me the first few days of the voyage. Not because I vanished in the Triangle. I just got seasick. And everyone knew where to find me—sick and suffering in my cabin.

Modern navigation systems are designed to keep us safe in the air and sea, but no GPS can protect me from the miniature versions of the Bermuda Triangle I deal with on terra firma, right here in Ocala. What’s more, those tiny angles are wreaking havoc in my house by holding items in my house in their sinister clutches for days, even weeks, only to return like a bewildered WWII pilot and vintage plane suddenly appearing in the present. The largest manifestation of paranormal activity associated with the Triangle is centered in my refrigerator, followed by the dryer, then every other closet in the house.

Although my husband and I try to put items on the same shelf in the refrigerator for easy access when needed, something inadvertently gets moved, prompting a conversation that goes something like this: “Honey, where’s the cheese?” my husband asks. “Top shelf on the left behind the yogurt,” I reply. “I am looking behind the yogurt, and I don’t see it,” he says pushing the container aside. “Oh boy. Now what?” I think to myself. “Then look behind the eggs,” I finally suggest, not really sure where it is now. “Nope. Not behind the eggs.” Then the annoying refrigerator alarm begins its high-pitched “beep” because the door has been opened too long. So we close the door without the cheese. Five minutes later we look again and there it is like a Siegfried and Roy vanishing illusion in reverse. I know the white tigers didn’t get the cheese. It was in the Bermuda Triangle.

The dryer is notorious for losing socks in the hot air as they tumble. What goes in doesn’t always come out. Sometimes the missing sock mysteriously reappears two wash loads later to be reunited with its mate. Where was it all that time? Has to be the Triangle.

Closets are another place where items seem to disappear into thin air. That is if you’re even looking in the correct closet. The Bermuda Triangle messes with your mind, too. They don’t call it the Devil’s Triangle for nothing. Is it a myth or reality? If socks could talk, we would know. So I guess we’ll just have to satisfy ourselves with stories and legends passed down through the years. Or maybe we should ask Big Foot if we could find him. But, of course, he wouldn’t be much help. He doesn’t wear socks.