THE UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE -Memoir

 THE UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE

 

I fulfilled a dream that day. I never thought I would have the adventure of swimming in a Florida lake, and the threat of alligators was a genuine concern. Yet, there I swam with my three kids. The water enclosed us in its incredible warmth. My tense arm and back muscles relaxed, although I fully couldn't calm my trepidation. Feeling an alligator might come to meet us, I needed to have a little vigilance.

Just moments earlier, we had gone on a memorable kayaking trip around the canals of Fort Lauderdale. The hot sun parched our skin as we paddled our vessels along the sides of yachts that, if sold, would be enough to buy a small country. What would it be like to have that much wealth? As we sliced through the water using bicep power, the massive yachts towered above our insignificant crafts, and we strained our heads upwards as we passed them. 

"That one is mine," my daughter proclaimed at the most prominent yacht there. Princess of the Sea seemed big enough that our entire extended family of fifty could comfortably ride on it and still have room for a million other people. I wanted to sneak inside, if just for a moment.

The yachts docked in front of equally impressive homes. How do people earn money to afford such luxury? We thought we were living the high life by renting six kayaks for two hours.

"Can we swim?" my son begged. He pulled his yacht next to mine and gave me puppy dog eyes. Surprisingly, at sixteen, they still worked.

I closely observed the water, wondering if the guide had told us was true.

"There are no alligators in this water," the guide had said.

"How can there not be alligators? Alligators are everywhere in Florida."

As if on cue, a noisy boat passed by. "There is too much activity in this water. Alligators don't want to be here." The guide reassured.

I couldn't believe him. "Yeah, but surely there are still alligators."

"Nope. You could swim here and be fine." He said with the confidence of a Florida expert.

That had planted the idea of swimming in my son's head.

I looked at my watch. "I don't want to waste our kayaking time swimming. We are paying for the minute."

"Come on, Mom. Just picture swimming here. It would be wonderful."

At that moment, large trees fanned over the canal. I could imagine diving under the leaves and playing swimming games with my kids. It would be a treat to swim there, but we kept kayaking.

Two hours disappeared like seconds. How come church never went by that fast?

We pulled our clunky plastic kayaks out at the water's edge and dragged them to the bamboo kiosk. A different worker helped us. My son didn't hesitate to ask, "Is it true that there are no alligators in the water?"

"Yup," the guy said, hardly paying attention to us beyond his duties of checking in the kayaks. Sadly, we turned in the plastic boats, not ready to end our adventure. 

The rental shack stood at the edge of George English Park. They returned our collateral, and I gathered the kids. We walked through the park, passing tons of lizards and iguanas. They darted around the prickly grass. As we approached the car, my son ran up to me.

"Can we swim here, please, please, please?"

"Hmm," I said, thinking about it. It would be lovely to get into the water. The day's heat drained us, and a swim would restore our vigor. The thought tempted me.

A group of iguanas scuttled out of the way. I watched the giant lizards, with their varying colors, add a tropical feeling to the park. I liked spontaneity, and my son offered me a chance to do something that felt dangerous. What if there were alligators in the pond?

"Let's do it," I said. Would I put our lives in danger? I could see us on the news. "Stupid mother takes her kids swimming in a Florida pond. All the kids get eaten by an alligator." I shudder as I push the possibility aside.

The three younger kids squealed with delight as they ran into the lake. I sauntered to the edge with my young adult daughter at my side.

"Join?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. My daughter, dressed in her summer best, already had looked too fancy for a kayak ride. No way she would submerge her outfit in a dingy-looking lake, dark and black.

"Haha," she laughed. "As if?"

"Oh, can't get my clothes wet," my son mocks. "I am too good to have fun."

He doesn't come close to tempting her.

My husband, not the adventuring type, also turned us down. Too good to join us, the two sat together on a bench. I turned to the three younger kids already splashing around. They are having fun. If I don't swim, I will never share the memory of this fun.

"Oh well, your loss," I say to my husband and adult daughter. I join the others for a new adventure.

I plunged into the water, still fully dressed.

"Ahh, this is the life.". The temperate water cooled my Florida-baked skin. Immediately my energy returned as the water refreshed me. I float onto my back while the cares of the world washed away. Swimming in a Florida lake was heaven I never thought I would experience. I come from the north, where all water freezes me within seconds.

The kids dove under the water, but I kept my head out of it. Although this was fun, the water did seem a bit on the gross side. What did we expect from a swamp? I tried to ignore the awful stuff that floated by. Meanwhile, I stayed on alert for a possible alligator.

The kids sucked in mouthfuls of water, becoming fountains. They sprayed the water out of their mouth, then slurped in more.

"I wouldn't put that water in my mouth," I warned. There might not be alligators, but surely there were parasites.

A clump of dark mud floated by us. "That looks like poop," my son said.

"It's just sediment from the lake floor, but do you want that in your mouth?"

To defy me, as he likes to, my son sucked in more water and squirted it above his head.

"Eww," I reply.

"Do you remember when we swam at Fort Buenaventura? What if this is like that?" He laughed.

That would be gross. Fort Buenaventura had been condemned because of e-coli, but we had swum in it because of the lack of warning signs. Only after we had swum for an hour did the workers at Fort Buenaventura yell at us. "Get out! The pond is condemned from e-coli!"

"Where is your sign?" I growled.

With nowhere to cleanse the bacteria from our skin, I made the kids strip naked and wash in the sprinklers. 

-What a memory!

As we played in the George English Lake, the sound of a boat motor caught our attention. A boat headed toward us.

"Why is that idiot coming at us? What a jerk," my son groaned in his typical teen fashion.

"He probably has something to tell us." 

The captain of the boat looked straight at me. I wanted to hide. I felt sheepish. The boater was on his way to yell at me for swimming there with my kids. He would tell me about all the alligators and chastise me for being such an inept mother.

The boater came within yelling distance and killed the motor.

"Hey, you don't want to be swimming here!" He yelled.

I am such an idiot. Why did I believe I could swim in a Florida lake? At least an alligator didn't get to us before he had.

"They had a pipe break here. -Over 200 million gallons of raw sewage was dumped into the lake."

His words almost knocked me over. 

We are swimming in sewage!

That earlier sentiment was poop.

We screamed.

My son was right. This was like Fort Buenaventura but worse.

The four of us swam out of the lake faster than if there had been an Alligator in it. Human feces-water drenched us.

I can't describe the sensation of uncleanness I had. Every inch of me felt disgusting with the idea of billions of harmful bacteria clinging all over my skin. Just like Buenaventura, there had been no signs.

We ran to the bathrooms and tried to bathe in the sink. The accessible stall had someone in it, and I wondered what she would think when she came out and saw a mom and two girls taking a sink bath.

The sink bath wasn't close to cleansing us. We needed to burn our clothes and then be washed in hydrogen peroxide and bleach.

"Screw it," I said, tossing my favorite shorts and shirt in the garbage can. I like modesty. I wasn't the type that flaunted all I had on the beach, but these were desperate times. I didn't feel so gross with just a bra and panties on. 

The girls couldn't scrub themselves enough. After doing all I could in a sink, I decided to check on my son. I didn't want him to see so much of my skin, but at least my sports bra and underwear looked like a bikini—more modest than most bikinis we had seen on the beach.

My older daughter cheekily watched us, happy for her decision to stay clean. She laughed at me, and I had no response. She had been right not to swim. I should have followed her example.

I was walking with my son to the car when I heard the girls scream at a pitch higher than when we discovered we were swimming in poop.

They ran to us. I thought they were still experiencing trauma from our unfortunate experience.

"There was a homeless man in the bathroom with us," they huffed, out of breath.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my emotions heightened and scared for my daughter's virtue.

"You know that person in the bathroom stall. Well, when you left, he came out. It was a homeless man."

I felt my spirits drop. Why had I left them alone? I should have been there to protect them. How did I know the person in the stall was a man?

"Did he hurt you?" I hadn't been gone that long, had I?

"No, he just walked out of the stall and left."

I hugged their soggy bodies, relieved that nothing more had happened in the bathroom.

How could I have left my precious daughters alone with a homeless man? I would win the mother-of-the-year award for this day.

I reflect upon that day we swam with sewage. Thankfully, we didn't get sick. After it happened, I had been convinced we would all die of e-coli or something equally as nasty. Thankfully, we didn't come down with a parasite. It was probably naive of me to swim in that pond. There most likely were alligators in it. The kayak guides probably only referred to the canals being free of alligators, and besides, why had I risked it on their word?

There are risks to having an adventurist spirit. 

If there weren't, then it wouldn't be an adventure.

__________________________________________________

The Unexpected Adventure

by Stephanie Daich