NEVER AGAIN!

By most accounts I am considered a fairly adventurous person. I have jumped out of an airplane 18 times, hiked up a few mountains & enjoyed the great outdoors (as long as I can sleep inside at night). I have traveled the world visiting 50 states, 66 countries & 6 continents.  I love roller coasters & wild rides. Years ago, we rode the tallest roller coaster in the world at the time at Cedar Point amusement park in Ohio. Lou & I drove 130 MPH in his Mitsubishi Eclipse out on Highway 50 in Nevada..

Speed is a fun thing as long as I am strapped into something solid & secure. A metal car around me with air bags & a tight seat belt - crank it up! Or if I'm held firmly in place, I'm happy to go fast & inverted on a roller coaster. My chance of dying seems minimal to me in these situations.

Disclaimer: If you are easily offended by colorful language you may want to stop here. This is probably my most profanity-laced post so far.

I was reminded last Sunday of the time I was scared shitless way back in the past. I was in my early twenties & a friend at the drop zone had ridden his motorcycle out to skydive. Having never been on a motorcycle, I cautiously accepted his offer to take me to the airport (about 4 miles) on the back of his bike.

With a full helmet & coveralls protecting all my extremities, I hopped on the back & was never so fucking scared in my life! He was going about 60 MPH on the deserted two lane road. All I could see was me, rolling & skidding along the asphalt as it streaked by inches away. I was sure I would die if I fell off or at least be hurt really, really badly. Remember I was only maybe 21 or 22, young & stupid. But I was also smart enough to realize I did NOT want to end up dead or maimed. When I survived those five fucking minutes of sheer terror, I stepped off the motorcycle on shaky legs with a stressed mind, & have never been on one since - NEVER.

Now, fast forward about 46 or 47 years to Great Stirrup Cay in the Bahamas a few days ago. Lou had been on a jet ski once 27 years ago in Cancun. His recollection was that they gave you a briefing & sent you out in a fairly small roped off area. There was a Wave Runner excursion on this final day of our cruise. Lou signed up & I agreed to ride along with him. What the hell, I like a little speed. How bad can it be?

This tour had a several minute video of instruction that also described every way possible to kill yourself on these "personal watercraft" machines. Because Lou had done this before we were placed in the "fast group". One guide led us after explaining the hand signals & imploring us to stay 100 yards apart while another guide brought up the rear. I discovered the only thing I had to hold onto was Lou & all he had to hang onto were the handlebars. As the group increased speed, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing?"

At speeds of 50-60 MPH & doing "S" turns across the water, I was instantly back on that fucking motorcycle speeding along inches from the water. Maybe hitting water at 60 MPH isn't quite as bad as hitting asphalt BUT remember all I had on was a bathing suit & a life jacket - & I am now 68 years old. Not to mention that I was berating myself royally for doing this after hip replacement surgery five months prior. Honestly, I was afraid I'd have a fucking heart attack.

I have a 7 year old granddaughter with whom I want to spend a lot more time. If this damned thing crashes that probably ain't gonna happen.

It was terrifying bouncing along at those speeds, absolutely terrifying. I understand why kids cry when they are scared. Lou was doing a good job of driving the thing & I trust him to be careful BUT anything could happen completely out of his control. I tried shutting my eyes or watching ahead of me but all I could see was my broken, lifeless body in the Atlantic Ocean. The engine drowned out my screams of, "This is scaring the shit out of me!", "I can't do this anymore!" & "I have to go back!". When we finally stopped for a brief rest & I discovered there was still half of the 45 minutes remaining, I told the guide, "I'm done. Take me back."

One of the guides pulled along side & I transferred to his Wave Runner. He drove like a bat out of hell but it was in a straight line & I was back on the dock in about two minutes - shaking & stressed & swearing like a longshoreman. And the damn bar was closed - where is a beer or a pina colada when you need one?

Lou told me the other guide told him now that I was gone he could keep up. Normally, I would be pissed off at that comment, but I couldn't care less once I was back on land. You all go as fast as you fucking want to go. I have reached an age where I just don't need that shit anymore. And I am perfectly fine with that!

I was reminded of a friend who said that a "Bucket List" is things you want to do before you die & a "Fuck It List" is things you have no desire to do before you die. 

NEVER AGAIN!