“Hey! Hello!” We slung our hands back and forth, leaning over the ship’s railing. On the dock below, a trio of our friends waved back. I bet the tub’s owner didn’t regret relenting on the ticket price for us. I had threatened to walk away three times before he agreed.

All aboard, we gathered at the prow of the boat, rocking with the waves and admiring the city lights. Hotels and restaurants gleamed neon against the cliffs. After a day spent in Antalya’s Old Town, feasting on the sea’s fruit and exploring bygone bookstores, we had reunited with the harbor for a jaunt on one of many eager vessels. The wrangling Turk who had secured our passage sidled up to one of the girls.

She entertained his conversation for a few minutes, then escaped to rejoin us at the other rail.

“No one is sitting with me,” the Turk complained.

“Devin, go sit with him,” we hissed at the one gent in our party.

“Oh, yeah,” he retorted, “that’s what he wants.” Fortunately, a family of passengers arrived then from the upper deck to distract our host.

The boat cut a wide arc, bouncing and skipping on the water. Overhead, clouds obstructed the stars. Music poured from the ship’s loudspeakers, but dancing seemed too risky. We clambered up onto the furthest extension of the prow and flung our arms into the wind. “Kings of the world!”