Vacation

Lori was very generous this holiday season and took me and her twin sons on a cruise to the Bahamas.

I had never been on a cruise or to the Bahamas so it was chock full of new experiences. 

We went to the piano bar one evening.  The performer was Barry.  Barry proudly stated that he had been performing on cruises for 23 years.  There is an old axiom in education: some experienced teachers have taught for 23 years and some have taught 1 year 23 times.  Well, piano man Barry seemed to be doing the same shtick he had done each of those 23 years .  The humor was flat and sexist and forced and he played Billy Joel's Piano Man like the third song.  Everybody knows you save that one for towards the end.  

We signed up for a snorkeling excursion in the port of Nassau. We got on a small boat and cruised out to a coral reef with about 45 of our fellow cruisers.  The place was pretty and ride was smooth.  Lori, Dustin, and Alex had experience with this activity and I had not.  I can't even really swim so I was the only one of us who popped right up when they offered the life vests.  So, we get to our destination and people put on their masks and start getting into the water.  Some with grace and some with a touch of clumsiness and yours truly with a certain je ne sais quoi, if je ne sais quoi translates to "panicked ineptitude".  

I have read a lot about how the brain works.  There are often conflicts of input and the brain must make sense of the input in order for the output of action to be decided upon.  One part of my brain could tell the life jacket was doing it's job and I was just fine.  Another part of my brain believed I was in eminent danger of drowning and never seeing any of my loved ones again.  The output of action made me look like a bobber attached to a line being mauled by a catfish of mythical size.  I heard the captain ask Lori if I was alright, a very reasonable question in the circumstances.  Since I suffer from katagelophobia (the fear of ridicule, being put down or embarrassed) I called out to him that I was fine.  Better dead than mocked, I always say.  

There was a real chunk of time when I was under control and moved through the water in a purposeful if wickedly inefficient manner.  Still my brain fought the conflicting inputs.  I would put my face in the water, the entire point of snorkeling, and the you-are-clearly-going-to-die part of my brain said "Don't breathe, for the love of all that is holy, don't breathe."  Then the you-are-currently-wearing-an-incredibly-simple-device-which-makes-it-possible-to-breathe part of my brain would allow me to take a breath and I would observe the really cool vista below me.  Then it was time for another breathe and the fight started all over again.  

When we returned to our state room I said I was going to take a shower to wash off the salt and fear.