For the first time ever, I went on a romantic couple’s vacation. My boyfriend, Mark, took me to Jamaica last week. Because he is the outdoorsy type, we did some pretty crazy stuff, including ziplining, river-tubing, and climbing a waterfall. I, myself, prefer calmer activities — massages, poolside sunbathing, and peaceful kayaking off the shoreline. Well, the massage was painful as Hell, I got an insane sunburn, and the damn kayaking almost killed me! Ironic, I know.
I was mocked by the Water Sports Activities’ director the second I strapped the life vest on (with his help) and sat down in the boat.
“Have you ever kayaked before?” he asked me, smiling.
“Once, when I was younger. Why?” I asked.
“Because you’re sitting the opposite direction that you’ll be paddling. Don’t worry, he’ll still be here if you turn away from him for a few minutes,” he said, laughing.
Embarrassed, I turned myself around and proceeded to sit as Mark paddled us away from the shore.
When we got far enough away from him, I yelled “Picture time!”, adjusted my favorite pair of sunglasses, and handed him the Go Pro.
After we each took a picture of the other, I said that I wanted to get one together. However, as Mark tried to head over toward me, I knew the rocking of the kayak was way too forceful for him to move any further.
“Forget it, I don’t need the picture!” I yelled frightened, as we swayed from side to side.
But Mark is a guy, and God forbid he should listen. Within seconds, the kayak flipped and I was thrown into the ocean. With water up my nose, and my heart racing, I was just about to “I told you so” him.
That’s when it happened.
The kayak completed its flip and the water pressure sent it plummeting down directly onto my face.
For the first moment or two I felt myself passing out, but I knew I had to stay conscious to keep from drowning. I settled for crying hysterically.
Not seeing what had happened, Mark quickly went from laughing hysterically to concerned about my head injury upon seeing my tears. He flipped the kayak back over, and put me into it, before climbing back in himself.
“I have a bump!” I yelled, feeling the huge lump on my forehead.
“It’s not so bad, babe. It’s really tiny,” Mark said, trying to calm me.
I was about to argue the point, when something more important caught my eye. When I looked back at the shore, the hotel was a tiny dot in the distance. How did we get so far out?
First I panicked, then I went into survival mode. I shouted “Left” and “Right” like a drill sergeant, and we eventually paddled our way back to the director, who was no longer laughing when he saw the HUGE bump on my head, and the tears streaming down my face.
When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I realize Mark had lied and it looked like I had a second head growing out of my forehead. That was also the time I realized I lost my favorite pair of sunglasses in the ocean (they must have gotten knocked off my head when I was almost knocked out). That brought on a whole other set of hysterical tears.
Mark apologized for trying to take the picture even though the kayak was rocking, and made me an ice pack, which I kept pressed to my head while crying, walking through the resort and lying on the beach. I assume everyone there thought I was a battered wife, because not a single person inquired about my head injury.
It’s just my luck to get a bump the size of Texas on my romantic vacation!
Have you ever been injured on a romantic vacation?