The beach is an awesome place. I was so glad our friends had invited us to go with them to the coast for a few days.
As soon as I possibly could, I changed into my bathing suit and charged straight into the ocean. I wasn’t the best swimmer, but I was determined to become the best boogie boarder out of everyone on the beach. And I knew it was going to take some serious work.
I had never been surfing (you probably could’ve figured that out), or even boogie boarding in the ocean. I almost got myself drowned the first couple of times that I tried to ride a wave on the boogie board, and then I made the discovery of going with the grain. I was making it my goal to not die when my dad and little sister joined me.
I was just getting the hang of it when Dad screamed something about a giant wave approaching. There it was, towering over me. It was scary, but I knew I had to keep swimming to where it would break. If I didn’t, it would hit me tsunami-style and I’d be a mile out from the shore, floating like flotsam for the rest of my life. (I wanted to be famous, but not if it meant I was the next “Castaway”.)
I turned around, jumped up, landed on the board, and shot off in my impression of a professional. I figured that’s about how it looked anyway. Thinking back on it now, in a more realistic way, I probably looked like an overweight walrus trying to get away from a polar bear. Oh well. Even I know you can’t win them all.
Still, I expected cheers from Abigail. She’s the most supportive person I know. She would probably cheer if I fell off the board and didn’t come up for an entire minute. She’s just that optimistic. I couldn’t hear anything other than the wave crashing down and my heart beating, but, I figured that it wasn’t a bad thing.
“This must be how it feels to be a dolphin or something,” I mused. “With your adrenaline pumping every time you start swimming,”
After a few seconds of that, I started thinking about how awfully cold I felt. “Well, it’s the ocean. It’s going to be windy sometimes.” I told myself. I knew it could just be the ocean breeze, but something was definitely fishy. I stifled a girlish scream as I realized my shorts had abandoned me and I was flying through the Pacific commando. I was stripped of my dignity, and quite ironically, the bottom half of my bathing suit. Obviously, Mother Nature had decided my buns were looking a little whiter than she would have preferred.
“This cannot be happening! They’re never going to let me forget this!” I shouted with self-pity. Salt water filled my mouth. I swallowed, because I knew it wouldn’t hurt. As soon as I got up on the sand, I’d puke my guts out anyway. From total embarrassment.
How on earth were we going to explain this to my mother? I would have rather seen a shark right there and then. And had a heart attack or something. I kept getting closer and closer to the shore. The beach was going to be humiliating. I changed my thought to: I would rather be right there in the water with a power cord wrapped around my body and all ten of my fingers in electrical sockets, and be staring a tiger shark in his beady eyes. Nothing happened that changed my course. So much for important (sometimes weird) wishes coming true. I was still moving forward.
I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and got an early start on erasing the memory. This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, Ms. Missionary. Blinding the Beaches of Canoa.
I was mortified. I might be hanging ten, but my backside was hanging out.