I first noticed the shift when I cruised in for lunch break on the Tuesday. The beach was a sandy moon slice arcing northward from the Club. I beached my rig near the far tip.

I hauled the board onto shore and performed a quick survey of beach activities as I popped off my waist harness.

My quick survey hit a speed bump.

I did a double take. But no more than a "poke-and-a-peek" as Jerry Seinfeld would say. The peek was sufficient. No doubt about it, a few yards up and to my right, a completely nude young lady was fully stretched out on her back, soaking up the rays.

Let me emphasize at this point that female nudity is not something to which I had been unaccustomed. Not long prior to this Barbados adventure, for a period of time I had cohabited with Dawn Starr, an astonishing exotic dancer of considerable renown. Once again, that's another story. I'm simply putting it out there as a possibly pertinent tidbit.

Tidbit aside, under the circumstances, you know: a naked lass on the beach in Barbados, I was definitely... affected. However, I did not stare. In fact, I somehow managed to present a casual stroll towards the Club, with not so much as a HowDoYouDo. I pride myself on having always strived to be a #notmetoo kinda' guy.

I did take note of the reactions of my fellow sailors. And I'm pleased to say they too were engaging in nothing more than an occasional, discreet 'poke-and-a-peek'.

The vibe had been disrupted. Subdued and conscious is how I would describe what had replaced the raucous bonhomie characterizing previous beach respites. I felt it quite profoundly myself. I had become too aware of my limbs; they didn't know what the heck to do with themselves! Miraculously, I did make it to the Club without tripping over my numb-dumb feet.

The awkward vibe persisted. During lunch -I was seated alone on the Club patio, lazily lingering over a flying fish cutter and rum punch- I couldn't help but notice the other guests also lingering, quiet, but stealing glances down the beach. I had strategically positioned myself with that particular area out-of-sight. What a guy, eh?

I was contemplating the last bite of my flying fish when a change came over several of my fellow diners: self-conscious shifting in chairs, clumsy reaching for drinks, ostensible gazing out to Sea.

You guessed it. BeBe had come into view.