The line of cars heading to the beach, at 5:30 in the afternoon, stretched to the west side of the Las Olas Bridge. Twenty minutes later we made the turn onto A1A, serenaded by music from the Elbo Room. Fifteen minutes after that we were seated on the patio of the Ritz-Carlton, watching the parade of college students interspersed with a few locals in green.
The people sitting next to us were vacationers from New Jersey. They didn’t know spring break was going on. “We usually go to Key West,” the woman said. “Next year we’re going to Key West.”
The police horses we had passed on the beach walked by in single file, like thoroughbreds headed to the starting gate. Then a fire truck roared past, followed by an ambulance and police cars, their lights whirring. Moments later an Ocean Rescue vehicle made its way, in the same northerly direction, along the beach.
We paid and walked to the parking lot. Driving north, just below the Bonnet House, we found a crowd gathered on the beach, looking at the spot in the ocean where surfers, rescue workers, jet skiers, and boats combed the water. We asked an onlooker what had happened and she confirmed what we suspected: someone had drowned.
