Wait, was that phosphorescence in the waves? Or moonlight glare off a white bonefish? Or maybe it was a ticked-off spirit who cant move on to the afterlife because his murder was never solved? Relax. It was just the gleam off a floating can of Bud, so theres no reason to be spooked when the tour stops to toast smores over a campfire on the dark and isolated Chicken Key.
Mon., July 26, 7 p.m., 2010