Pearl, Enayat and I went to the Jam N Tube Saturday, a fundraiser for the Chilean Temple, for the Baha'is, and a secular fund-raiser as well. I dithered all day about whether to go tubing and finally decided to go for it, wearing my swimsuit, lightweight cotton pants that I expected to dry easily, and a life preserver provided by the Lo's, surprisingly one my size. Fred towed us around the bay, out by their waterfront house beyond Purdy.
We had a sort of tube/inflatable raft with a spot for three passengers. I was expecting speed, but my ordinarily sedentary body and brain were startled and completely unprepared for the up and down, sideways movement of bumping along the choppy water, and by crossing the boat's wake. My partners in the raft, fit thirty-somethings, were having a wonderful time. I was in mortal terror.
Reason, which told me I was quite safe with a very low center of gravity, and handles which my arms are still sore from gripping to save my life, but reason fled, and my brain stem was immediately concerned with imminent death. We had prearranged signals for "speed up", "slow down", and "stop!!" Unfortunately, making a signal involved releasing my death grip on the handles.
At last I made the throat-cutting gesture to stop, and transferred to the boat, feeling the great euphoria of having survived--euphoria which is the bread-and-butter of amusement parks. I am easily amused. Pearl, who was riding in the boat, transferred into the tube, and had a great time.
The outcome? A lot of fun, a new appreciation of the silliness of most anxiety, sore muscles everywhere, and a sunburnt left knee.
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