It was a nice, sunny day at Castaway Cay - not a cloud in the sky, a light breeze, and a balmy 82 degrees. Yet there I was, inside a waterproof safety suit, standing on a ledge with a Croatian safety officer telling me to jump. This man wanted me to hold my nose and “take step into water.” Water was almost ten feet below me. It was at this point a few unfriendly words came flying out of my mouth, under my breath of course, since I was pretty sure I was taking a step into death by drowning. In case you are wondering, I was not having fun.
“Just take step into water. We don’t have all day.”
“I’m working on it. Give me a sec, ok?”
After a couple deep breaths and a silent prayer for survival I took a step and plunged down into the bright blue Caribbean Sea. Now, I’m a fairly decent swimmer, but it’s a little difficult to swim when you’re inside a buoyant safety suit which has roughly the same range of motion as Ralphie’s snow suit in A Christmas Story. It’s more like flailing in a general direction rather than swimming. After flailing my way to a ladder and awkwardly pulling myself back up to the ledge, I was told to take off the suit and grab a life jacket so I could do it again. Fantastic. Just what I wanted. How did they know I wanted to plunge to possible death by drowning again? It’s like they can read minds.
I put on the lifejacket, which was in pretty rough shape since they are used solely for Wet Drill. I hope none of you ever come to know the feeling of dread which spread through me when I realized the velcro on my lifejacket was so worn it no longer worked properly. So I’m back on the ledge, holding down my lifejacket so it doesn’t break my neck on impact and we’re having the same conversation.
“Why you take so long? Just take step into water.”
“Again, I’m working on it. I just need a moment.”
“Do you need a push?”
“Possibly.”
“No pushing. Take step.”
I gave ole boy a rather dirty look at this point, totally involuntary - it just sort of happened, and was met with a rousing chorus of laughter from all the safety officers in the near vicinity.
“You have spunk. Take step now, please.”
Well, he said please. I held on for dear life and took another step of doom in to the Caribbean Sea. I thought flailing around in the safety suit was hard. There is only one position one can be in while in a lifejacket: on your back, like a turtle. I’ll let you figure out how swimming went in that position. So there I am, sprawled out like a turtle, attempting to “swim” in the direction of my group so we can lock arms and join in a safety circle before we move on to the next phase of Wet Drill - learning to flip a capsized life raft.
The life rafts on board the Disney Dream are filled with CO2 which means there is this big canister on the underside of the raft. To flip the life raft, you and a friend must first climb on top of it from the water. Then you must position yourselves so that you will be able to stand up on the CO2 canister. After standing, you hold on to the safety ropes and lean back, using your body weight to flip the raft. Once you hit the water, you pull yourself out from under the raft with the safety ropes.
Please take the next few moments to imagine me and my awesome powers of clumsiness attempting to do this... get all the laughter out of your system. Go on. Okay, are we settled? Good. Yes, it was as awkward as it could be, since the top of the raft is about two and half feet out of the water and you need upper body strength to pull yourself out. Did I mention that I was also doing this in a life jacket. So, I’m helpless like a turtle and they want me to hoist myself out of the water onto a capsized raft and then flip it over.
I did it. I’m actually quite proud of this one too, because my partner and I did it the fastest out of our group. Granted I knocked myself in the face with one of the safety ropes and have a rope burn next to my nose to prove it, but the Croatian safety officer called me a “late bloomer” and congratulated me on my "battle scar" after this achievement. Wahbam!
Moving on, I officially earned my ears! The little red tag which marked me as new is gone and I’m all on my own now. No trainer, no shadowing! I love it. The kids are amazing, and I’m getting to know my fellow counselors better as well. In fact, a couple of us are in something called a Wenis War (the wenis is that patch of skin which covers your elbow, fyi). Basically, we go around like ninjas and mark each other’s elbows with a highlighter or washable marker. Result? I come home with colored elbows everyday. But so do the other people, muwahaha! Simple things keep us entertained, really.
I have had several people tell me that I do not seem like I am from Kentucky. This worries me slightly, but at the same time I suppose it’s a good thing. The people that say this have a) never been to Kentucky and b) have that stereotypical idea of what someone from Kentucky should be like. You know the one... Yeah. Anyhow, once I told them my accent comes out when I’m mad or tired, they’ve been trying to draw it out of me. We’ll see how that goes.
And now, a special conversation I wish to share with you all. This took place at Pixie Hollow, whilst coloring a picture of Nemo with a sweet, little 4 year old girl...
Me: “Well, how old do you think I am?”
Girl: “I don’t know... maybe fifty-hundred.
Me: “Fifty-hundred! Do you know anyone who’s fifty-hundred?!?”
Girl: giggles “No!”
Me: “Then how come you think I’m fifty-hundred?”
Girl: “Because you’re old and rusty.”
There you have it folks, I’m old and rusty. So, I’ll probably be laying an extra thick layer of moisturizer on tonight before bed... just in case.
One more thing... and I know this is a shameless plea, but still... look to the right hand side of your screen... see those addresses? Yeah... mail makes me happy. Just saying. :)
Love to you all! Until next time...
Over and out.
Well, he said please. I held on for dear life and took another step of doom in to the Caribbean Sea. I thought flailing around in the safety suit was hard. There is only one position one can be in while in a lifejacket: on your back, like a turtle. I’ll let you figure out how swimming went in that position. So there I am, sprawled out like a turtle, attempting to “swim” in the direction of my group so we can lock arms and join in a safety circle before we move on to the next phase of Wet Drill - learning to flip a capsized life raft.
The life rafts on board the Disney Dream are filled with CO2 which means there is this big canister on the underside of the raft. To flip the life raft, you and a friend must first climb on top of it from the water. Then you must position yourselves so that you will be able to stand up on the CO2 canister. After standing, you hold on to the safety ropes and lean back, using your body weight to flip the raft. Once you hit the water, you pull yourself out from under the raft with the safety ropes.
Please take the next few moments to imagine me and my awesome powers of clumsiness attempting to do this... get all the laughter out of your system. Go on. Okay, are we settled? Good. Yes, it was as awkward as it could be, since the top of the raft is about two and half feet out of the water and you need upper body strength to pull yourself out. Did I mention that I was also doing this in a life jacket. So, I’m helpless like a turtle and they want me to hoist myself out of the water onto a capsized raft and then flip it over.
I did it. I’m actually quite proud of this one too, because my partner and I did it the fastest out of our group. Granted I knocked myself in the face with one of the safety ropes and have a rope burn next to my nose to prove it, but the Croatian safety officer called me a “late bloomer” and congratulated me on my "battle scar" after this achievement. Wahbam!
Moving on, I officially earned my ears! The little red tag which marked me as new is gone and I’m all on my own now. No trainer, no shadowing! I love it. The kids are amazing, and I’m getting to know my fellow counselors better as well. In fact, a couple of us are in something called a Wenis War (the wenis is that patch of skin which covers your elbow, fyi). Basically, we go around like ninjas and mark each other’s elbows with a highlighter or washable marker. Result? I come home with colored elbows everyday. But so do the other people, muwahaha! Simple things keep us entertained, really.
I have had several people tell me that I do not seem like I am from Kentucky. This worries me slightly, but at the same time I suppose it’s a good thing. The people that say this have a) never been to Kentucky and b) have that stereotypical idea of what someone from Kentucky should be like. You know the one... Yeah. Anyhow, once I told them my accent comes out when I’m mad or tired, they’ve been trying to draw it out of me. We’ll see how that goes.
And now, a special conversation I wish to share with you all. This took place at Pixie Hollow, whilst coloring a picture of Nemo with a sweet, little 4 year old girl...
Me: “Well, how old do you think I am?”
Girl: “I don’t know... maybe fifty-hundred.
Me: “Fifty-hundred! Do you know anyone who’s fifty-hundred?!?”
Girl: giggles “No!”
Me: “Then how come you think I’m fifty-hundred?”
Girl: “Because you’re old and rusty.”
There you have it folks, I’m old and rusty. So, I’ll probably be laying an extra thick layer of moisturizer on tonight before bed... just in case.
One more thing... and I know this is a shameless plea, but still... look to the right hand side of your screen... see those addresses? Yeah... mail makes me happy. Just saying. :)
Love to you all! Until next time...
Over and out.
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