Under the Sea

Sometimes pride gets the best of us. Almost as an afterthought the snorkeling guide asked if we were all good swimmers and had used the gear before; I've gone snorkeling a few times and figured it was no big deal. Think is-- I'm not a good swimmer. And that can become apparently obvious at the worst times. In my case, the snorkel wasn't set up properly, and the tube kept falling into the water; so instead of swimming, I was more doggy paddling after the group, in search of Caribbean manatees. The wind was fierce that morning, and the waves piled up in a frenzied rush towards me. At some point, salt water swelling my throat, I looked around and couldn't see the boat or any other snorkelers. It is a most surreal feeling to be suspended over a stinging coral reef, in open water. I remembered the episode of Magnum, P.I. where Magnum had to tread water all night until he was rescued by a helicopter. I figured I was in no real danger, but I wondered how long I'd paddle if I had to-- probably not the 40 minutes we'd spend at this site.

So moments later when I caught up with the group (only a few waves over) admiring the gentle beauty of a manatee, I did what I had been telling myself all along not to do: I quietly panicked. I tried to slow my breathing enough to use the snorkel, but couldn't. I tried to float calmly instead of scaring off the timid creature with my thrashing legs, and couldn't. The fleeing manatee sent the group scurrying off again, with me limping behind. This time however, the guide noticed my struggles and brought me a life jacket to float on. I discarded any pretense of pride and floated gloomily back to the boat. But I'd glimpsed a manatee, and later I'd float serenely with sharks, sting rays, eels and sea turtles. The clouds lifted, so to speak, to leave me pleasantly sunburned.