Right. So this is Part II of Boating – so if you haven’t read the previous post, just scroll on down…and then come back here.
Where were we? Yes. Right.
So, everyone took turns (except me) and had a great time –
and AB even spent some time “dare-deviling” on the tube
until he took it up on one side and eventually lost his grip.
It was impressive people. I was a wife impressed. Just sayin.
Sorta sexy when your man does water sports.
(raises eyebrows up and down)
It was great fun! If you’ve never done it, I would love to recommend it…except...
Ahem.
Except, everyone was like “you’ve got to try it, Christie” and “do it, Babe!” and “go Mommy!”
and I was all “no, no, no” and they were like “yes, yes, yes”. And finally I caved.
And all the while I was thinking that no matter I’m pushing 40, and never mind a girl of my…
shall we say “volume” shouldn’t be trying to bounce around on the lake on a floating tube,
and let’s just forget that I have the dexterity of a clam.
Let’s forget all that for a moment while I tell you that
I was convinced to try in the spirit of “you only live once”.
Yes. Yes, I was. And I got on that donut without the hole.
Barely – which should have been my first warning sign.
I was trying to gently ease myself down from the boat onto it, and well…
let’s just say that it was not the graceful transfer I had hoped it would be.
It was more of a PLOP-FLAIL-GRASP. Like “whoahhh, NO…oh…shoot….well”.
And then I was like “What do I do? How do I hold on?”
My body was already slipping off to the back and the boat hadn’t even begun moving.
This should have been my second warning. But no.
I decided it would be easier to attempt a ride (in the spirit of “how hard can it be?”) than to hoist myself back up into the boat.
Turns out, not so much. No.
Still, Anton took the obligatory picture of me trying to be brave.
Mind you, the mind AND body were screaming “save yourself!!”
but I was pretending to be calm for the sake of avoiding another “FISHGATE” incident. (shivers)
Then the boat started moving. This is when I knew I was in severe trouble.
At first, I laughed – because it took me off guard (as you will see in the evidence photo below).
Then my paltry grip on the handles started to slide.
Um, I missed the memo about supporting my own weight.
Yes, I missed that.
So my uh… “volume” started to slip towards the back of the dingy, and I realized in very short order
that I was expected to HOLD MYSELF in that position.
Who does that?
Who just sits around all day practicing the art of holding their own weight in a “hanging” position?
Not me, that’s who.
I have about as much upper body strength as a piece of styrofoam.
Because styrofoam has no upper body, people.
Slip. Slip. Slip. Heading straight toward FISHGATE Part Deaux.
I pulled up, and nothing happened. I mean, that is to say…I just didn’t move at all.
All my strength and not an inch. Crap. I had to keep myself from going in the water.
Anton’s yelling from the boat (ages in front of me) to hold on – to right myself – to hang on.
“Yes! I know! What am I doing here? I’m holding on, for crying out loud!”
Only I didn’t say that, because I couldn’t.
I could only think of how fast my….volume was sliding into the fish…I mean, the water.
And so I did what anyone in my situation would do.
I heaved – with all my might – to pull my body up to the front of the tube.
With a big “aaaaaaaahhhh”I huffed my body forward, and that’s what I will remember.
That last effort.
It was a beautiful moment – slow motion like – and I was like Rocky Balboa and my mouth was contorted like all “nooooooooooooooo” (or “Adrian!” or whatever) and that’s when it happened.
It was a beautiful moment – slow motion like – and I was like Rocky Balboa and my mouth was contorted like all “nooooooooooooooo” (or “Adrian!” or whatever) and that’s when it happened.
As I heaved upward, the weight of the…water, yes the water (cough-sputter),
pushed the front end of the stupid torture device nose first into the lake.
And when that happens – there is no recovery, folks.
It’s like a bad sequence of water takes dingy, water wins.
The whole front tipped downward, and with it – mass water engulfed the tube-with-no-hole-
and I went face first and head over heels into the dark abyss of LAKE water.
And the boat kept going. Until I heard but did not see AB shout “stop!”
I *think* that might be my HAND you see off the to the right of the “Wheel of Shame”.
As it tried to right its owner. Bless its heart.
I came up, sputtering and coughing – since I had taken on a mouthful of lake water.
(Remember, I was doing my Rocky yell…)
And to be sure, that boat was WAY TOO FAR AWAY to swim to.
I mean like, I can swim – but not like English Channel swim. You know?
And I was all “what the….who the…why the frig…I HATE this thing!
Why would anyone want to ride on this?” and I’m talking to no one in particular,
because I’m the only one who can hear me, save the fish.
Blech.
I’m that far from the stinking boat. I might as well send up a flare to communicate.
And at first, they are shouting to me to “get back on” and doing crappy charades to indicate what I should do - imitating how I need to be pulling myself back on, or whatever.
Let’s just take a moment with that one.
Get back on.
Get back on???
What is wrong with you people, I thought?
I couldn’t even hold myself in position when I WAS on. You want me to what?
Catapult myself out of the murky water and onto this mockery of a water device?
Somehow magically walk on water long enough to slide gracefully back onto
the circle of doom, long enough to disgrace myself again?
No, they mean heave/ho and propel my girth back to the center, so that I can ride again.
As if!?!
Now, mind you – I make an effort. I grab the handles and try to pull myself up.
Have you ever swam in the deep end of a swimming pool and tried to climb out using the ladder?
It’s no bueno.
It’s like all that floaty weightless feeling you just had being in the water
and then you try to pull your full weight UP and OUT?
Yeah that.
It pretty much makes you feel like your lifting 18 tons of concrete out of the pool when you scale that ladder.
Well, this is just like that.
Except there’s no clear pool, just a mass body of fishy/creepy thingy infested dark water.
And there’s no ladder. Just some handles made out of material and a slippery rubbery surface.
So I do what anyone would do.
I attempt, twice.Trying in vain to save what little bit of dignity I might have left.
And when my arms, which are now JELLO, tell me it’s not gonna happen - I start kicking.
No, not for the benefit of trying to reach the safety of the boat. No. Meh. Forget that. That's not gonna happen.
The boat's like 45 miles away from me, or whatever.
And a gal of my "volume" can't swim that far.
I start kicking because I feel like a sitting duck.
And I can hear the jaws theme in my head. Don't laugh.
And I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW that there are
thousands of fish (et. al) in the water with me in that moment.
And I am waiting for the bite.
So I’m frantically kicking my legs and going a big, generous NO WHERE.
Eventually, after what feels like they’ve sipped wine and had a nice chat, they start pulling the tube in,
and I grab hold with all my might and let the powers that be drag me with it.
The whole while, I’m kicking like a mad-woman. Because I CANNOT have another fish touch me.
That would be the final straw.
And I’m humiliated enough.
I reach the boat, and Anton reaches down to help me out of the water.
“Why didn’t you get back on?” he says. “Why did you lean so far forward?”
After my eyes bore through his skull and I announced to the boat at large
that I was DONE with the Death Dingy,
I said to all within earshot – “that thing is ridiculously hard to hold onto”…
and then swung my venomous gaze back to AB,
“Why didn’t you tell me I’d need every ounce of what my mama gave me to make that work?
Did you forget to mention it’s like scaling a rope in gym class?”
After I downed an entire helping of pride pie, I watched as AB had another go at it.
And I marveled at his ability to stay ON the thing.
Truth be told, I was the only one who fell off that day,
until AB took a daring spill after a really adventurous maneuver.
Girls of, ahem…"volume", beware. It’s not for us. Take it from me.
Stick to the shore.
You’ll thank me.
And for the record, I prefer fish on my dinner plate and not nibbling on my legs.
But I guess turn-about is fair play.
Blech.
