BLOG: 6's & 7'S
When I asked, "What is the craziest thing you have ever done?" I got a huge response from writers, homemakers, musicians, ex-pats---pretty much you name it! This week, meet Amy Beech, a late 40-ish mother of two kids, two dogs and a husband. She is a homemaker that likes to watch reality television in her spare time away from cleaning toilets and constantly removing paw and foot prints from her bamboo floors. A good day for Amy is when there is a House Hunters marathon on HGTV. She likes wine and chocolate and indulges on a semi-regular basis. Amy also likes to be involved with her church, which I am sure is a contradiction to all the aforementioned information. Amy currently resides in Texas with her husband Michael, her son Lane and two dogs. Her oldest child, Natalie, has flown the coop and lives happily and independently from her family.
Amy Beech, Goddess of the Sea
When Kelly asked me to write about the craziest thing I’ve ever done, I thought, “Well, that should be easy. I’m a wild and crazy gal, right?” For instance, remember that time I got in a fight with Abby Lee Miller in the dressing room? Or, remember that time I flipped a table at a fancy Italian dinner in New Jersey? Wait…it turns out I’m not that wild and crazy, I only watch wild and crazy on T.V.
So….here’s what I came up with. This one time in Cozumel…I snorkeled. For me, that’s bat sh#t crazy! I’m not exactly one with nature and things that crawl, swim or shimmy.
We had the privilege of vacationing in Cozumel with my dad and my sister’s family. We slummed around in an all-inclusive resort for a couple of days and became bored. Yeah, I know, we suck… big time. Anyway, we decided to venture out on an excursion. The resort excursion coordinator suggested a “glass bottom” boat adventure. So, off we went into the wild Cozumel yonder.
The “glass bottom” boat was a small ski boat with a long narrow window in the bottom of the boat. Move along folks, nothing to see here. Literally, as nothing was visible through that long narrow window. It didn’t matter though, because we were greeted by two very happy gentlemen, one not so hard on the eyes, the other, kinda hard on the eyes. Best part, they had a cooler full of beer. What could be wrong with this? As we sped along in our ski boat with beer, the easy-on-the-eyes gentleman began pulling out our snorkeling equipment. I decided, hey, YOLO, right? Right. There were masks, fins and that squiggly thing that goes in your mouth (I’m sure there is a more technical term, but I don’t know it). I whispered to my husband, “Certainly they disinfect this gear in between uses, right?” I’m slightly panicked at this point, because probably not. But, hey, YOLO right?
Here I am with my fins and my mask, holding my squiggly, disinfected mouth thingy, ready to jump into the water. Not-So-Easy on the eyes gives us a short tutorial on how to breathe through our squiggly, disinfected (I’m sure) mouth thingys while in the water. I try to breathe through my squiggly, disinfected mouth thingy, but to no avail. Not-So-Easy on the eyes decides to take some personal tutorial time with me, because he does this every day and he can teach anyone how to snorkel. After about 8 minutes of “personal” time and 8 minutes of me panicking and failing to breathe through squiggly, disinfected, mouth thingy, Mr. Not-So-Easy on the eyes and I decided to break up. “I’ll just hold my breath”, I said. “Okay”, he said.
I will admit, I managed to see some beauty. Vibrant blue, yellow, orange and pink swimmers (fish); very Finding Nemo! I also saw some beautiful foliage- I believe they call it coral. I was pretty chill other than having to look through my mask and coming up for air more than usual because of my inability to breathe through squiggly, disinfected, mouth thingy. Mr. Not-So-Easy on the eyes instructed us all to come up for air for a moment(no problem), so he could tell us where to look in order to see something beautiful and something rare that we are unlikely to see on an everyday basis. “A baby shark”, he says. Ahhhhhhh, hell to the gosh darn no! “I’m out”, I said. He points out that the boat (with Mr. easy on the eyes aboard) is at quite a distance, I’ll have to hang in there. My sister, at this point, is finding the situation quite hilarious. I’m told I was looking rather attractive with my wet, disheveled hair over my mask . Remember the days at the city pool where we would go under water, come up, and fold our hair back in a beautiful water hairdo? I’m pretty sure I was rocking that look. I digress. Anyway, I refuse to look at said baby shark. My sister, with her perfectly slicked back, wet hair is looking down with her mask while breathing perfectly through her squiggly, disinfected, mouth thingy. I hear a scream come out of her squiggly, disinfected, mouth thingy. According to her it was a scream of delight, I thought it sounded much more like a blood curdling scream (like Jaws). Suddenly, I realize, I’m wearing a red bathing suit! Holy sh*t! Aren’t baby sharks attracted to red (perhaps it’s blood, which is red, but close enough)?! And wait just a minute, doesn’t baby shark mean momma shark is nearby ready to devour anyone ogling at baby shark?
I did, indeed, hang in there. I just kept pleading with Mr. Not-So-Easy for boat and cerveza until boat and cerveza arrived. I spent the remaining 2 stops on the boat with Mr. Easy, my daughter, Natalie (she wasn’t thrilled with the shark experience either) and the beer cooler. I did go down the ladder a few times for a pit stop (because beer) and made it through with not so much as a jelly fish sting.
So, there you have it. One of my very few, wild and crazy experiences (who knew I was so sheltered?). I came, I saw, I conquered. My YOLO days are few and far between now. I much prefer sitting on my couch with my favorite Cabernet Sauvignon from my fancy boxed wine collection, having fights with Abby Lee Miller and my Italian friends from New Jersey. Tune in next time when I decide to YOLO again in another 20 years or so.
Update: Turns out squiggly, disinfected, mouth thingy is called a snorkel.
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