>> anthony: lot of crab holes. this time of year, port antonio is literally crawling with crabs, i'm told. it'll be really easy. just scoop up the little bastards and then it's back to the pool. >> anthony: no, i'm looking. i'll lunge at 'em. >> man: it's hot. i think it's that rum, you know? >> man 2: it's really thick in the bush, you know? >> anthony: it's sweltering, freaking hot, and dark. >> man: you find something? >> man 2: yeah. here, here, here. >> man: awesome, man. >> anthony: but it doesn't seem to bother the hotel chefs who willingly risk dismemberment for the sake of procuring a tasty dinner. >> man: we want him alive. we have questions to ask him. where are your friends? >> anthony: oh yeah. >> man: you know? >> anthony: one crab down, 49 left to go. >> man: if they are for tony. we got to get some more tonight, so -- >> anthony: i'm frankly anxious to get this over with so when the opportunity arises to stick my paw down into a hole where there's probably a pissed off crab looking to clamp down on my pinky with his pincers, i could