Torture vs. Treat
Every square inch of my body is screaming holy sunburn. My muscles feel like I ran a marathon. I’m emotionally depleted & exhausted.
So, here’s the deal… let this be a cautionary tale. Tubing down a lovely Florida river. Our place of choice- http://www.therainbowriver.com/tubing.html. Thousands of people do it all summer. I have never. I was obsessed with doing this. Well apparently here are some helpful tips to offer.
First, when getting on the tram that drops you off into the river- listen to the goofy guy on the speaker, explicitly telling you that the stopping point is the tiki hut. And, husband- a tiki hut is not the same thing as a pagoda. So, when you feel like you have missed spot and you ask ” where is the pagoda?” People look at you as if you need to return to the senior center.
Next tip- very important. Please sneak a protein bar in your cleavage. 6 hours is a long time to go with no food. And shove a credit card in that cleavage as well.
Alright, are you taking notes- because this is most important…sitting in a friggin round slippery snug object for hours at a time is pure torture, and may invoke panic attacks that cause you to curse profusely and sporadically flop out of ones snug slippery plastic death device now clinging to it while fighting currents as strangulating seaweed strands make their way into your vulnerable crotch.
While you are fighting the current, sun screen that you bootlegged in now is just a nuisance weighing you down and no longer is a priority as both hands are literally keeping you afloat – hence keeping you slightly alive.
As the miles stretch, your skin sizzles, hunger knocking at the door like an angry neighbor- all that is left is a microcosm of hope that one day- maybe you will see your doggies again.
Clusters of redneck, beer drinking, sub eating tethered 6 in a row tubers float on by, smoking their cigarettes- not knowing where the friggin pagoda is!
A mirage of land suddenly appears after 6 hours. As you stumble onto ground, like a shipwrecked fool entering bewildered into the civilized world- the horrible realization occurs to you- that the stopoff- pagoda- aka- tiki hut that tram driver mumbled into a shoddy speaker 6 hours was overshot 4 hours ago. Hence, the water soaked receipt you have for 2 hour tubing ride.
As we plead our story, plastic nooses anchoring our neck- what do we do? How do we get back?
Well, my folks- that is when you recall- you have no phone, no money, no credit card. Car, car, car. Well- lucky enough for us- a taxi was right around the corner to schlep our soaking, sandy sad selves to our car to get our debit card to go to a bank to accrue a $4.00 fee, to pay $40 to go back to our friggin car.
As we dragged our weary, exhausted burnt bodies into the car, we took a tally of ailments we encountered or suffered purely endured by this adventure.
Included but not limited to: burnt skin, dehydration, hypoglycemia, charlie horse leg cramps, water logged ears most likely with some incurable flesh eating bacteria to be diagnosed with at a later date, nausea, sea sick, stiff neck, frozen shoulder, possibly dislocated in a few spots and incessant tearing of Hubby’s eyes the entire drive home evoking an immense amount of anxiety for yours truly.
So, that my folks was our glorious day of tubing on Rainbow river…..
PS. Not one picture was had due to no phone.