Fog? Well, no. We don't use it.

Hi, it's Texino. My home is surrounded by water. Well, if you were to peer outside, you would not see it and, if you did see some, you would be in dire straits. Still, I do live on an island with the Atlantic Ocean right up the street and the Matanzas River slightly further down the road. To the left and right there are passes to and from the sea, so reaching the water is a small matter.
Now with all this water, one would expect the occasional fog bank to drift in and make things shipshape. Well that seldom happens and, what's more, it is much more usual to come upon foggy situations over on the mainland which are caused by quirks of climatology and have naught to do with the nautical. Why would anyone want fog? Sea fog is a pleasant envelope and going about in it can be most satisfying so long as you are not afloat and trying to make port. Now I have seen the fog here but I would expect a toothy bite from a clucking hen before it might come to pass once more. In fact during the 25 odd years I have spent on this barrier island I can only recall 2 times when a fog of note came along. I even gave name to one of the occasions; The Reefer Fog. While the "Reefer" fog might suggest some goofy pleasure, none was gained.
I had dropped by the beach front home of a man whom I did not know too well on a personal level, but he seemed sharp in his profession and had invited me to come by "any time." Looking back, it seems he may have been short on pals due to slightly erratic behavior when he took drink and I guess his drink taking was to the point where it was a problem. At any rate I was in the area one fine sunny day and seeing the man cleaning his Jeep, I stopped by to chat him up to speed. Well nothing would do other than taking a tour of his whole and lovely home with a nice cold beer in hand. Afterwards Joe had an idea. Why not go outside, sit and watch the surf and smoke a marijuana cigarette? Why not indeed? Cold beer, the sun glinting off the ocean swell and a slight buzz in the brain, life could be worse, si? Well not much as it turned out, for not only was the pot ultra strong it was of a type that made me jittery and just a bit paranoid. Pretty unusual state for Old Texino, but the state just the same. It certainly did not help to suddenly realize my host was really drunk and in that state did not want me to leave. "Oh come on another drink?" "You just got here" That kind of rap. Well, I thought a beer might cut the welling fear that the extremely potent pot was stoking in my brain. Just as my host, who was by now in love with everyone and every thing, returned with the brew, I happened to glance seaward. "What's that?" I said, my voice sounding odd and hollow as I pointed to what looked to be a small puff of smoke on the horizon. "What's what?" "What do you mean?" his reply seemed a touch brittle like that of a person on the edge of control. "That, er cloud thing." I countered, noting to my self that the puff had expanded. Joe just stared and so did I, because the object had now become a rapidly approaching wall. A dark wall too, and it seemed to be spreading in the manner of arms or jaws; not unlike say, the end of the world. Onward the wall, silent those held in its sway. Silent, but not thoughtless, for my brain was ticking off a tally of the worst; poison gas? A freak tornado? Or was it just the end of the world set to occur on the lawn of a lonesome alcoholic who wanting to attract friends had gone so far as to decorate the entertainment area of his home in the colors of both of the state's arch rivals in college football; their battle flags looming large and limp on their staffs as destiny came at us full bore. In an instant, we were folded in- a blanket of sea fog. A real pea soup as they say in the foggy parts of the planet. And that was that. It came in, and the land killed it as sure as it sobered me right to my toes. Sea fog is very rare in these waters.
Texino