Once upon a time, Husband and I got married. It was a grand ol' time full of lots of "hold that kiss right there for three minutes without moving" photos and getting my dress stepped on way too many times. Best choice I ever made was to marry that guy.
Once the nuptials were over, we headed off on our honeymoon--a fantastic cruise to Key West and two islands in the Bahamas.
So we are in the Bahamas soaking up the sun and basically loving life when Husband and I decide to go down the beach toward where the waves look a little more intense--because half the fun of the beach is bouncing around on the waves, for sure.
So we dash across that gorgeous white sand and into the crystalline water. A wave crashes toward us.The anticipation builds. This looks like a good one! We both get into our best wave-resisting stances. Husband's stance is somehow awesome and he stays on his feet. Me, on the other hand... well, my stance apparently sucked.
I'm standing there, gearing up, and that wave hits my legs with a lot more force than I expected. And not only that, but there's a strong undertow. Before I knew it, that wave had picked me up and threw me heels over head in an instant. I was underwater doing somersault after somersault with no idea which way was up.
Gulping in water as the undertow pulled me over and over and over, I flung out my arms in a desperate reach for shore. My hands grasped the sandy bottom just as the wave receded and freed me from its deadly grasp.
I finally got my feet under me and rubbed the salt and sand out of my stinging eyes. "Woah," I said, stumbling around blindly.
But that was all I managed to say before yet another wave grabbed hold of my legs and pulled them out from under me once more. Tumbling and tumbling, over and over. I was half enjoying the ride and half scared out of my mind that I was going to die. Funny how often those things go together, isn't it?
This time, when the wave receded, I was left on my knees facing the shore with my swimsuit bottoms halfway down my legs completely full of sand. I hurriedly pulled the bottoms up, hoping none of the other beach goers had seen anything.
I barely had my bottoms pulled back up when another wave toppled right over me and pulled me under again. I felt my swimsuit bottoms come down yet again and prayed to heaven that I wasn't mooning the entire Bahamian beach right now. And also praying I wouldn't die.
I was watching my life flash before my eyes... the time I'd locked the keys in a running vehicle in the middle of nowhere... the time I fell asleep at the wheel and annihilated a mailbox... the time I nearly peed all over our car... the time I dyed spaghetti sauce blue...
It was then that I decided that I desperately wanted to live... if for nothing else but to have cooler things to remember next time my life flashed before my eyes.
So the next time the wave receded, I finally used my brain and got the heck outta the water (whilst pulling my bottoms back up again). My head was throbbing and I was sopping.
I decided that next time I'll just keep to the milder waves--I apparently am no match against undertow.