Once upon a time when I was really really little (maybe six?)
my parents took me and my sibs to a water park.
There's only one thing I remember at this water park...
it almost killed me.
Does anyone remember those wave rides? The ones that fool you into thinking
they're nothing but a calm pool where you
can go to relax and float on your rubber doughnut without
a care in the world?
And then without warning, these machines start to whirl and the
next thing you know you're trapped in a vortex of waves and chaos and the only
thing you can think of to do is hold on for dear life? And then as quickly as it
had come the waves depart and it's all quiet on the western front.
Dramatic? Maybe....to a six year old? The gospel truth.
So there I was floating on a inner tube with my dad and my oldest sister Amy.
My dad occupied the middle Amy and I sat on the sides. Eventually I got tired
from being in the sun so I laid down and just enjoyed the gentle swaying of
movement until it lured me into a deadly lullaby of sleep.
The next thing I remember is waking up to the murdering waves crashing around
and I fell off my tube into the waters below. I remember looking up
and freaking out because all I could see were tubes and feet. I couldn't find an opening to come up nor did
I know how to swim that well. Not too mention I was being bombarded
by waves. Not a second later, my dad's hand flew down and grabbed me and pulled
me back up to the surface. I was thrilled to see daylight and that
I would be around to live another day. After making sure I was ok, Dad
helped me to hang on until the waves
were over again and then we quickly exited
the pool. I was only too happy
to leave that "ride" behind.
What brought this story on you say? Pete's in the bathroom having a bath.
And there you have it.