Entry: The Forty-Seventh-- Aquaman Adventures
Last night, at approximately 1:38 AM, I filled up my bathroom sink with warm water, took off my shirt, and timidly plunged my face in.
There was good reason for this.
It was the first time I had plunged my face, timidly or not, into any body of water, sink-encompassed or not, in thirteen years.
Thirteen years ago, my Dad offered me $100 to stick my face underwater in a public swimming pool. $100 is a lot of money to a six-year-old, even a six-year-old who doesn’t like to get his face wet.
Dad was asleep last night at 1:38 AM
Let me quickly define terms. “Get my face wet” means “submerge my eyes, nose, and mouth completely underwater”. It doesn’t mean “oops, I’m showering, and some water dripped on my cheek; I’d better freak out now.” If that were the case, I’d be pretty weird. And probably pretty dirty.
The real deal: I am a non-amphibious mammal. I have this non-sealable breathing apparatus called a nose. Said nose delivers to me life-sustaining oxygen. Said oxygen can be extracted from air, not water. Therefore, I keep my nose in air.
Consider the parable of Glork: Glork is a caveman. Glork likes water. Glork lets his nose dally about all day in ponds and puddles. One day, Glork forgets to breathe air. Glork dies. Glork’s genes do not replicate themselves. The next generation of cavemen are more averse to water. They watch where they put their noses. They don’t forget to breathe air. Darwin watches proudly.
Moral: I’m not weird; I’m just more evolutionarily evolved than all y’all water folk.
Or was, at least.
Results from grand historic plunging of face into water:
Event: Plunge face into water
Result: Face in water
Event: Plunge face deeper into water
Result: Nose bumps bottom of sink
Event: Move face side-to-side, while submerged in water.
Result: Cute little bubbles emanate from nose
Event: Exhale, while submerged in water
Result: Large, noisy bubbles emanate from mouth
Deaths: 0
This smorgasbord of excitement occupies me for seventeen minutes.
Then the whole thing starts to seem mundane and commonplace. Which is exactly the result I was hoping for.
The idea is that now I can become a respectable swimmer. The following things will no longer make me cringe with awkward discomfort: (abridged list) whitewater rafting, pool parties, Dorney Park, canoes. I will be able to set foot within a YMCA without having traumatic childhood flashbacks. I will be one step closer to preparing myself to compete on Survivor*. Once I can do the good sort of swimming, that is. The kind where your head goes under the water.
Between this newfound resolve to swim and my attempts to learn cooking from Dad**, this could potentially be a very productive summer***. More is planned for my future, too. Next summer: driving. Some indeterminate point: dancing. Also some indeterminate point: understanding finances. If I can accomplish these five things, I think there’s still a chance I might become a fully functional human being. Right now, I lack these basic life skills, and it’s somewhat sad. Wit, charm, charisma, book smarts, common sense, dashing good looks, and an incomparable sense of humor can only get you so far in life.
Then you’ll get invited to the Fortune 500 pool party/dance contest/drive-in-movie/pot-luck supper.
And if you’re not ready when that happens, you have nobody to blame but yourself.
* Not really. I would never, ever want to go on Survivor, for a multitude of reasons. Even if I could help my team in the water-based immunity challenges.
** More on this in a future entry, perhaps
*** Not to mention my occasional attempts to juggle.
There was good reason for this.
It was the first time I had plunged my face, timidly or not, into any body of water, sink-encompassed or not, in thirteen years.
Thirteen years ago, my Dad offered me $100 to stick my face underwater in a public swimming pool. $100 is a lot of money to a six-year-old, even a six-year-old who doesn’t like to get his face wet.
Dad was asleep last night at 1:38 AM
Let me quickly define terms. “Get my face wet” means “submerge my eyes, nose, and mouth completely underwater”. It doesn’t mean “oops, I’m showering, and some water dripped on my cheek; I’d better freak out now.” If that were the case, I’d be pretty weird. And probably pretty dirty.
The real deal: I am a non-amphibious mammal. I have this non-sealable breathing apparatus called a nose. Said nose delivers to me life-sustaining oxygen. Said oxygen can be extracted from air, not water. Therefore, I keep my nose in air.
Consider the parable of Glork: Glork is a caveman. Glork likes water. Glork lets his nose dally about all day in ponds and puddles. One day, Glork forgets to breathe air. Glork dies. Glork’s genes do not replicate themselves. The next generation of cavemen are more averse to water. They watch where they put their noses. They don’t forget to breathe air. Darwin watches proudly.
Moral: I’m not weird; I’m just more evolutionarily evolved than all y’all water folk.
Or was, at least.
Results from grand historic plunging of face into water:
Event: Plunge face into water
Result: Face in water
Event: Plunge face deeper into water
Result: Nose bumps bottom of sink
Event: Move face side-to-side, while submerged in water.
Result: Cute little bubbles emanate from nose
Event: Exhale, while submerged in water
Result: Large, noisy bubbles emanate from mouth
Deaths: 0
This smorgasbord of excitement occupies me for seventeen minutes.
Then the whole thing starts to seem mundane and commonplace. Which is exactly the result I was hoping for.
The idea is that now I can become a respectable swimmer. The following things will no longer make me cringe with awkward discomfort: (abridged list) whitewater rafting, pool parties, Dorney Park, canoes. I will be able to set foot within a YMCA without having traumatic childhood flashbacks. I will be one step closer to preparing myself to compete on Survivor*. Once I can do the good sort of swimming, that is. The kind where your head goes under the water.
Between this newfound resolve to swim and my attempts to learn cooking from Dad**, this could potentially be a very productive summer***. More is planned for my future, too. Next summer: driving. Some indeterminate point: dancing. Also some indeterminate point: understanding finances. If I can accomplish these five things, I think there’s still a chance I might become a fully functional human being. Right now, I lack these basic life skills, and it’s somewhat sad. Wit, charm, charisma, book smarts, common sense, dashing good looks, and an incomparable sense of humor can only get you so far in life.
Then you’ll get invited to the Fortune 500 pool party/dance contest/drive-in-movie/pot-luck supper.
And if you’re not ready when that happens, you have nobody to blame but yourself.
* Not really. I would never, ever want to go on Survivor, for a multitude of reasons. Even if I could help my team in the water-based immunity challenges.
** More on this in a future entry, perhaps
*** Not to mention my occasional attempts to juggle.