Down A Lazy River

I met Joe as our innertubes ricocheted off the canyon walls and smashed into each other.

-I pulled both calf muscles yesterday at the beach.  I can hardly walk, so I thought I’d give myself a break and take this “Lazy River Ride”.  What a joke!

Flipped ass-over-tea-kettle by a wave of tsunamic proportions, I had to dive for my sunglasses that had washed off my face by the force of the water.  At least I still had my underwater camera in hand.

-Are you okay, The Captain, Sonny-boy, Joe and numerous strangers asked with concerned looks?

Another wave smacked me in the face and sent my tube hurtling down the rapids chute.  I caught a quick glimpse of Joe turning pale under his sunburn.

-Oh Brother!  Who named this ride “Lazy River”?  This is more like a scene out of “Deliverance”!!!!!  Rosemary, it’s been nice knowing you.  If we don’t make it out of this alive, maybe they’ll bury us together.

My favourite son-in-law (I only have one) couldn’t wait to get his thrills on the Power Tower Waterslides. The Lazy River took a turn towards death, with an option for near-death.  Joe and I were making our way thru near-death, while The Captain and In-Law climbed the Tower.  The whole park reverberated with the echoing wails of woe as The Cap’s tube took the first plunge down the tower’s face.

-Ayeeeeeee…eeee...eee...eee

Son-in-law climbed to the topmost landing, his eyes gleaming.  Our hero’s history includes champion titles as ski jumper, slalom racer, long board racer and all-round speed demon.  He never missed a beat.  Running up the tower stairway, he chose one tunnel after the other until he had done them all…repeatedly.  He claims his favourite was “The Abyss”.

Without a tube, bare-backed, his body flew off the top of the slide at lightning speed, dropping, then dropping again, spinning into darkness, whirling in spirals that seemed to have no end.  How he reveled in becoming completely disoriented before being spit out into the blazing sunshine of the pools at the bottom.  He didn’t scream.  He didn’t cry.  He didn’t even throw up.  He did it again and again and again--for two hours.

Joe and I just shook our heads in disbelief.  We were happy to be alive after the rapid runs.  I am sending up a prayer that my two-year old grandson hasn’t inherited his Papa’s penchant for death-defying dare-devilishness.  My heart couldn’t stand it.