A Short Story About BP Oil Gulf Spill – Essay Example

7/7 Upon our arrival at Buras-Triumph’s fluvial boundaries, one of the Viet se noticed that I was feeling cold as we neared the town’s port. She rummaged through a wooden box that was on the other end of the boat, far from where I was sitting. I noticed her pulling out a couple of old Chinese-looking top and pants—ones like what Bruce Lee wore in his movies on TV. She slowly made her way to me, making sure she wouldn’t tip the boat, and gave me the clothes along with her warm, motherly smile. At this, I was beginning to feel fuzzy inside. “Thank you very much,” I said to her, while bowing. I hope she understood my gesture of thankfulness. In return, she bowed her head to me, and showed her motherly smile once more before returning to her husband who was sitting at the bow of the boat.
Looking at the clothes she gave me, I went into a deep, pensive state. “Going to Miami is the best thing, right? I mean, my wife and kids will not go hungry since they would get a lot of money that would work as a compromise for my ‘untimely death,’ supposedly,” I thought, “Well, whatever happens, I better choose now.” The boat had arrived at the port safely and as I got off, the Vietnamese woman waved a tender goodbye. Right back at her, I waved goodbye, and walked away with the sun on my back. It was a new day.