Snorkeling in Maui--or--How I Almost Died

Hey readers!  If you're thinking, "Didn't I already read this?" it's because you pretty much have.  But I'm taking a humor writing course right now, so this is getting tweaked as I try to hone my skill :)

I don’t know when I became an aquaphobe.  I took swimming lessons as a child, dutifully throwing myself off the diving board so I could have ice cream on the way home.  I never had a traumatic aquatic experience—at least not that my therapist has yet uncovered--but somehow I developed a fear of getting my face wet.  Even in the shower I have to give myself a little pep talk before plunging my face into the stream of almost-certain death.  And yet, somehow, I had agreed to put my face in the world’s largest bathtub.

The trouble with being married is that your spouse invariably knows what to say to get you to do just about anything.  Not wanting me to "miss out" on what is supposed to be one of Maui's key attractions, Matthew promised that he would take a surf lesson (which was sure to provide me with an hour of mirth as I watched him repeatedly fall) if I would accompany him on a snorkeling trip. 

Children make snorkeling look easy.  They throw on their mask, rush into the surf, and fling themselves into the water to look for Nemo.  This is because children are idiots.  They do not yet know, as I do, that at any moment the entire ocean could come pouring into your mouth, causing you to flail around, gasping for air, until your lungs fill with water and you pass into oblivion thinking, “hmm, salty!”  But I know this, which is why I prepared for snorkeling with the proper respect: carefully fitting my mask, practicing breathing through a tube, slipping on my flippers, offering sacrifices to every current, historical, and mythical god I could think of; and reverently approaching the incoming tide.  Since this ritual took about 40 minutes of our 1-hour gear rental, Matthew had long swum off in search of sea turtles and I was left alone for the final step.  Throwing caution to the wind I bent down and plunged my face into the water.  

Surprisingly, I could breathe!  There was no rush of water down my throat, no coral reaching up to grab me, no fish nibbling at my limbs, I was just floating along—breathing—examining all that Maui reef life has to offer.  Quickly snapping pictures with my underwater camera I floated blissfully along until I started to think about what it was I was doing.  How many feet down there was the ocean floor?  How many miles was I now from the shore?  As I gasped in shock at the imminent danger I had placed myself in, the ocean really did start rushing into my mouth (as I had predicted).  Fortunately, as I began to flail and struggle I had one  coherent thought, "You are a champion back floater!"  Flipping on to my back I kicked my way to shore where I collapsed on the beach and thanked all of those gods that I had survived.  It was the most thrilling 3.8 minutes of my life.

Now I just need to go shower off all that sand.