So of course, knowing this, I thought it would be a good idea to go snorkeling.
I had a blow up life vest with me that The Guy ordered off the internet. I had his old snorkeling gear and the promise that it would all be okay. Foolishly, I believed this.
|The wake of the catamaran.|
Picture by The Guy.
|The Guy and I ready to snorkel.|
Picture by SiL
And then I died.
No wait. Instead, I started to hyperventilate.
Now, The Guy and his sister had instructed me that all I had to do was breathe slowly and deeply through the snorkel thingy and I would be fine. They did not however take into account that I would hyperventilate the entire time. This did not work as well.
I spent a few minutes preparing myself to stick my head in the water. I slowed my breath enough to brave an attempt to actually snorkel. Gingerly, I put my head in the water, let go of the catamaran (oh yes, did I mention the death grip?) and kick away.
This is what I saw.
Picture by The Guy
After a few short minutes of being amazed, I hyperventilated enough that water had leaked into my mask and I started to sputter. Popped to the surface, I pealed off my mask and dumped the water out.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I took a few minutes to "calm" myself (I use that term loosely) and then would go back into the awe inspiring world until the panic took over again. It was a cycle: PANIC, Oooooh pretty!, PANIC, Ooooh pretty!, PANIC!!!!!!!!!
Finally, I realized I was wearing myself out. My heart was beating out of my chest, I couldn't catch my breath and I was losing my mojo. I "swam" my way back to the boat and dragged my sorry ass back on. It took my another 10 minutes to calm my heart, but I was glad I went.
And I will never go again. Well, maybe not ever...