Ocean of War

I went kayaking on Friday night, which was great fun, if massively exhausting, because my arms just aren’t that strong, and going with a group is SO DIFFERENT than going alone, or with one other person, because suddenly, you have to keep up. No leisurely paddling, or taking a rest to just look into the mangroves and see what birds might pop out, or whether you can see any dolphins or manatees* in the distance. No. Instead, you are stuck frantically paddling to keep up with this super-brawny, ginormous tour guide who keeps screaming at you to stay away from the birds, because they are trying to eat dinner, and how would it feel if you were casually sitting at your dinner table and GIANT PEOPLE came up, bearing oars? YOU WOULD BE TERRIFED, THAT’S WHAT, SO HUSTLE UP THERE AND QUIT DAWDLING. You know, she was really nice. And also, relaxed and not at all tightly wound. Or yelly.

What she didn’t understand is that we were next to the birds because WE COULD NOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO PADDLE AWAY, because we are inept kayakers who were about to be washed out to sea in the wake of a giant yacht, arms waving and paddles clashing while she just screams at us about the fucking endangered blue herons. And this – THIS is why I’ve only ever gone kayaking in shallow estuaries and not the open ocean, because the open ocean is very very scary. And those dolphins in the distance? Are NOT in the distance when the water is deep, THEY ARE RIGHT THERE, and in fact, when one came up to my kayak and bumped it, instead of casually observing its lovely little face (face! THE FACE! WAS RIGHT NEXT TO ME!) I screamed, “JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST IS THAT A SHARK?!” and scared the shit out of the dolphin, who swam away screaming, “JESUS CHRIST IS THAT AN ASSHOLE ON A KAYAK?” and went home and hugged her children veryvery tightly, because there are scary people in this world who don’t know how to kayak OR observe nature, and who must be stopped. I sense that the next time I go out on the kayak, I will be swarmed by angry, vengeful dolphins, and I will try to apologize by not screaming at them.

Anyway. When I got home, I was wet and sandy, as usual, and stripped down near the laundry room and went to the bathroom, because when you are on a kayak for three hours, you HAVE TO PEE. In fact, I had to pee so badly, that all I could think about is how badly I had to pee. And then, you know, because I was so caught up in the relief of it all, I ignored important details, like how my crotch was filled with sand from launching the kayak into the ocean and that little time I spent swimming before I hopped into the kayak. And maybe, um, I just went ahead and took a nice big swipe of toilet paper along my sandy little precious area and SCRAPED A HUNDRED BITS OF SAND ALONG MY PRIVATES THAT ACTUALLY CAUSED SOME, um, MILD BLEEDING AND SEARING PAIN. And then, there was screaming and crying because seriously, WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME? I was pretty sure that I was having some sort of rare parasitic attack or infection, and I started running around the house screaming that sea chiggers had attached themselves to my vagina and I was doomed – DOOMED. CREATURES WERE EATING AWAY AT ME. And Adam was away on business, so I actually debated calling 911, because it was just a matter of time before I was eaten alive by the evil sea infestation, and clearly I was powerless to stop them.

Yes. 911. For sand in my crotch. Thank heaven for the small mercy of remembering the sand before I called an ambulance.

But still, there is PAIN. Quite a bit of it, in fact. I walk around like I’ve just come off of a cross-country horseback ride. I CANNOT HELP IT. The pain. I avoid going to the bathroom until I just CAN’T HOLD IT ANYMORE.

This was no-doubt in the master plan of those dolphins. The fucking bastards.

*An important note to tourists. Everyone thinks that seeing manatees is going to be SO COOL, because they are big sea cows, and very cute and very endangered. National Geographic has done a brilliant job here, and the first time you see a manatee, you think it is going to be this GIANT TRANSFORMING, MAGICAL EXPERIENCE. And it’s just not that way. They are so giant and docile that they just float along like big old sacks of potatoes, and I’m convinced that if there were an actual sack of potatoes floating next to a manatee, you would not be able to tell the difference. Sorry to burst manatee-loving bubbles everywhere.

**The Samples

12 comments May 8th, 2006