Sometimes, I wonder if I’m missing the portion of my brain that is supposed to differentiate between fun activity and stupid idea. But then I think back and realize that it has simply been shrunk to an inconsequential size by me repeatedly disregarding any warnings I DO get.
Brain: “You shouldn’t eat fourth helpings. You’re already full, and it’ll probably make you sick.”
Some other part of my brain: “Shut it brain. This is delicious and everyone knows that delicious things can’t possibly make you sick. I’m going to eat some more.”
So that’s pretty much what I did when my friends and I decided to go tubing on Sunday. It was just about the coldest day that the month of August is capable of producing, and by the time we had gotten ourselves down to the river with tubes in tow the sun had vanished behind some rainy looking clouds that were starting to sprinkle on us.
I had suspicions that this wasn’t going to go well. In fact, my suspicions were so strong that, at one point, I may have even said the words, “I’m not going to go. Once we leave, we’re stuck on the river for three hours. I will get hypothermia.”
We managed to delude ourselves for about 20 minutes.
It took another 20 before my teeth started chattering. Certain people less endowed with surplus body fat than I am also started turning purple around now.
At one point, my friend Maddie got so fed up with the way her tube kept slowly deflating into the icy water that I convinced her to get in my tube with me. “Get in with me. Please. I want to cuddle with you. Please!” I didn’t sound desperate at all. Unfortunately, we were both pretty chilly at this point and didn’t have enough body heat to really warm the other person up much. Eventually, Maddie decided this was just too uncomfortable and that she would ride the floating cooler full of snacks and drinks instead.
“Guys, you’d better not let go of the rope or I’ll be alone on a cooler!”
Never again in my life do I expect to hear the phrase “alone on a cooler” in any context that makes the least bit of sense.
Of course, we all eventually survived and got to the end. Or at least I was so distractedly miserable thinking about how cold I was, that I was not likely to notice or go back for anybody who may not have survived. I spent the last 40 minutes or so telling off anybody who was paddling a little too vigorously in my general vicinity: “Um, you are splashing me right now, and it’s not ok.”
Now that it’s over and I’ve had a couple of days to forget the more vivid details, it actually seems like a grand adventure, and I’m quite keen to go again. Although there’s an almost inaudible voice in my head muttering something that sounds vaguely like, “bad idea.”
I told the voice to shut it.