These days, most of my friends know I prefer dry land. Perhaps it is the life jacket I tie on perfectly tight while everyone else has it laying beside them. Perhaps it is the strong grip I have to anything I can hold on to, or the sheer look of terror when big waves come on from a nearby speed boat. Once I found myself unconsciously holding the hand of a five-year-old as the boat took off, as if she was going to save me.
"Hey, you guys should buy a boat," I hear every summer. (We're the only family without one in our "gang").
"Erin's not a boat person," is the answer every time.
A few years ago, Mr.'s buddy was taking people out on the boat to see a sunken ship deep in the underwater of the lake. I glanced down to the depths and saw the shadow of the boat and was overcome with the urge to throw up and pass out.
"Mmm, wow, cool," was what I said, taking slow, deep breaths.
I didn't tell him until years later that I was terrified.
It's not that I haven't tried to get over it. I have gone on numerous canoe trips, even taken white water canoeing lessons (nightmares every night), but I still cannot look down into the water. I can't think of any reason I have this phobia - perhaps watching "JAWS" movies too early in life?
So last week after two days of gentle coaxing from friends to go in the rowboat onto a quiet lake, my son came over and said, "Mom, it's okay. It's goes so slow," making a planing gesture with his arms.
Unfortunately, this slightly insulted the owner of the boat who'd put a "motor" on it recently. Indeed, it was slow.
So, with my children watching, and the owner fussing over my seating in the boat, I had Mr. triple check the lifejacket and I got in.
We headed out, quite slowly, my girlfriend manning the engine.
Unfortunately, she had never used the motor before.
With both our husbands "instructing" us from the dock, she drove into the dock, then backed up away from the dock and headed out.
We forgot to take into account, her dog.
Suddenly, there was a splash and the large labradoodle was swimming after us, easily catching up with the lack of speed of the boat. Of course she goes for her beloved owner, right into the path of the motor. Husbands are shouting at the dog and at my friend, and as she reaches for the dog collar in one hand, and holds the motor in the other, the boat is shaking back and forth.
You've got to be kidding me.
"Turn the motor off!" they yell.
"It's okay!" she yells back, but I know different. I am frozen in place and can't do anything except put my head down into my lifejacket and moan. I am seriously going to barf. I would like to pass out right now and let it all continue without me.
As quickly as it started, it also ended. We did not fall out, the dog did not come to a brutal, bloody end, and the boat calmed. It took a few encouraging, delightful words from she-who-is-good-at-pretending-it-was-all-in-control-from-the-beginning for me to look up. I started to relax my shoulders and look out at the cottages going by. It was nice. I was all right.
"Geez, I hope the cops don't come over to find out what was going on!" she suddenly said with a chuckle. I realize then that she does not have her boating license. Sigh.
You've got to be kidding me.
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