Today I went snorkeling, which was terrifying because I find almost everything somewhat terrifying. Dad and I went together, with a company called Sea Experience and a funny captain. We rode out under an open draw bridge to the open ocean with a crowd of tattooed fellow snorkelers. One of them wore a Duke swimming and diving t-shirt, and had a tattoo on his front that said “Screaming won’t help you” and one that said “Jarhead” on his back. This seemed like a confusing set of images and vaguely concerning. Later he said,”You guys can go ahead; I’m just being a girl about getting in the water.”
Given that I was feeling terrified about getting in the water, I involuntarily responded with a “me too,” and then immediately wished I had said “that’s funny, because I am a girl.” But whatever; less interaction was probably better interaction.
In the water, I proceeded to hyperventilate every time I put my face down, and probably as a result got a lot of water in my mouth. When this situation didn’t improve and I was feeling very salty and light headed, I went back to the boat and said, “Oh Captain my Captain…” and asked why I was having this rather unpleasant experience (the water-in-the-mouth, not the snorkeling — that would have been rude). He said I had on the little-faced-person mask and he was nice and gave me one that fit better and I got back in the water with my big face.
This was actually our second stop because at their normal prime snorkeling location, there was a flock (this does not seem like the right word) of moon jellyfish that are almost see-through, but have a coil of pink on their underside that looks like it belongs in the engine of a car. Another of our tattooed mates, holding a six-month-old on his lap, informed us that these were just like plastic plates when you picked them up from the top. He also announced that he was going to get in and throw them like discs. Our guides probably did not hear him and decided to move to prime location number two. I’m sure that if they knew what fun he was planning that they would have been more supportive.
I should probably note that I eventually became more comfortable in the water and actually dived down at one point, holding my breath. In fact, I probably dived a whole five feet before I thought my ears would explode. Apparently you can blow air out your ears. My Dad says so, which makes it true. Who knew?
On the way back, one of our guides informed us that we were passing Judge Judy’s yacht, Steven Spielberg’s yacht, Tiger Woods’ former house, and a number of multi-million dollar homes for sale next door to homes owned by the founders of Wendy’s and Firestone Tires.
Honestly, who would sell their house when they could get neighborly freebies that might include Wendy’s Berry Almond Chicken Salad or a set of studded Firestone Tires. Life would be so much better living in the house that Cindy Crawford built but never lived in. And it’s only 18.5 million dollars and surrounded by palm trees.
Ok, so my future is decided. I’m going to seduce Elin Nordegren into a lesbian relationship, we will repossess the house that Tiger sold because he couldn’t dock his 155-foot yacht in the back yard, and we will take cookies to our new neighbors when someone finally moves in at the not-actually-Crawford’s home. And when I snorkel, I will require that people swim around me, lifting up my limbs when necessary and shielding me from large waves and moon jellyfish, which they should consider throwing like discs out of the water, but I don’t really care how they do it. I will also require a tailored mask with an extra long snorkel tube that never becomes inundated with water.
(Clarification: this post is an endorsement of Sea Experience and its guide team. It is not an endorsement of excessive tattooing. Also, some parts of this post should be considered sarcastic.)