Stream of Unconsciousness...

From February 7th
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We're in Barbados, again!

I swore that I’d never go back to the Boatyard (beach club in Barbados), but here I am, again!

This time, my entrance fee is only 5 bucks (since I’m officially now on the crew list), as opposed to 15, like last time. But, really, there’s not many good beaches near the pier in Barbados (except the Boatyard). So, $5 to get some good sun, wasn’t a bad deal.

When I got there, I looked around to see if I recognized anyone (we just got about 100 new crew onboard). Thalita was there, getting some sun, herself (though, in my opinion, she didn’t need anymore).

As normal, the locals are on the beach, selling overpriced Jet Ski rentals. And normally, I say, “Buzz off.”

Today was an exception. “That would be fun!” says Thalita, not knowing that I was about to give her the ride of her life.

So, we grab a lifejacket and jump on the jet ski, with myself in the driver’s seat. I figured it might be a considerate gesture to warn Thalita of my record with personal vehicles, but I decided against it.

Lucia, one of the ship’s pursers, decided that she’d join in on the fun, and hopped on a jet ski, herself.

I depressed the green “Start” button, and the deceptively quiet engine and then innocently purring beneath us.

“Ready?” I say.

“Yeah!” she yells, squeezing a tight grip around my waist.

With a firm squeeze of the throttle, the engine roared with enthusiasm as we shot off into surf. It wasn’t long before we were jumping across the waves at 70kph.

The water was a bit choppy, due to the recent boat traffic, and cutting straight across the waves was making it hard to hold on. And the tighter I held on to the handles, the harder I squeezed the throttle, and therefore the faster I went, and the more my bum hurt. And the never-ending cycle continues.

“STOP!” shrieked Thalita. “I’m scared!”

So, I let off the throttle and slid the jet ski to a halt. We took a minute to catch our breath. Both of us were laughing as the jet ski bobbed in the water.

Just then, Lucia zipped past us in a furious spray.

“You okay?” I looked back at Thalita with a mischievous grin. She re-secured her grip around me, knowing what I was about to do.

Another squeeze of the grip and a growl from the engine, and the hull of the jet ski heaved out of the water as we chased down Lucia.

We caught up with her and rode in her wake, chasing her in circles, then peeling off in the opposite direction.

Together, we all shot across the port, heading for the Grand Princess. I guess we figured we’d put on a show for the crew stuck on the ship.

We flew past the stern, leaving behind a hefty wake as we zigzagged towards the bow. When we got to the bridge, we carved a sharp turn, and kicked out the tail-end of the craft, throwing a massive sheet of water, straight up into the air…and right back down on us.

Both Lucia and I carved water-donuts in front of the Grand, hoping that someone on-deck would be getting a good show, with Thalita freaking out on the back seat the entire time. (I think she might’ve told me to stop, but I’m pretty sure it was the kind of “Stop” that meant “GO FASTER!”).

Thalita was still clutching me in a death-grip, and I just laughed and took off again, with the nose of the jet ski up in the air, nearly dumping her off the back.

“GAAAAH!!!” I winced in pain as Thalita carved a new orifice into my side. I looked down at the scratch (it wasn’t nearly as bad as it felt), and then back at Thalita, who already knew what she had done.

After licking my wound, I offered up the driver’s seat to Thalita, who had never ridden (muchless driven) a jet ski before. With a tentative squeeze on the throttle, Thalita eased up to a poky 35kph, trying to get a feel for the animal that had nearly bucked her off more than once before.

Once she found some calm, open water, she squeezed the throttle a little harder. We edged upwards towards 50kph and blahblahblahblah…..yeah, she drives like a grandma. :o) After about 15 minutes, she was worn out from just hanging on to the handlebars (once again, she had that white-knuckled, death-grip of hers).

She gave up the driver’s seat, and I took over, again. We zipped through the countless boats just off of the beach.

“Look over there!” said Thalita, pointing to a catamaran full of tourists. “I think my friend’s on that boat!” We drifted to a float as we neared the boat, so she could get a better look.

With no luck, I squeezed the trigger and started to pull an about-face. I don’t know exactly what happened, but this is how I remember it in slow-motion:

I didn’t give very much throttle at all, and the nose of the jet ski lifted out of the water (we hadn’t even gained any speed). Just then, the boat started rolling to the outside of the turn. Thalita started shrieking (which is more of a moan in slow-mo), as she nearly slipped off the seat.

That “nearly” is what did it for us. She stopped herself from falling off, but she was still hanging off on one side and hadn’t gotten completely back on.

But it was too late. The watercraft’s balance had already been upset. In vain, I tried to correct the roll by turning the other direction, but the engine choked and seemed to say to me, “You idiot! What have you done?!” The jet ski flipped the both of us off (literally, and probably figuratively, too) and rolled belly-up.

“ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodscottyoubrokeitwhatdowedonow?!?!?!” Thalita was in a bit of a frenzy. I grabbed onto the bumper of the overturned craft and tried to pull myself onto its slippery underside, but not before slipping back off into the water. I tried again….then back in the water.

Third time’s the charm, right? I finally was able to reach all the way across the underside of the hull to grab the bumper on the opposite side, gave a little heave, and managed to flip it right side up.

As I climbed back on, I retrieved the key that was floating in the water. Then, standing on the opposite side, I pulled Thalita back on. After catching out breath, we laughed for a good, hard minute.

A nearby boater (and don’t forget the catamaran) was standing by, ready to offer assistance, but I gave him a thumbs-up and a wave, which he returned with a grin before moving on.

With a quick prayer of thanks, I depressed the START button. The engine coughed, and then settled back into a nice smooth purr, as if nothing had happened.

“I’m done for the day, how about you?” I asked Thalita.

“Haha! That was SO MUCH FUN!” She wrapped her arms back around me, and we headed back to the beach at a conservative pace.

I kill the engine as I drift onto the beach, and the owner comes up with a cheerful grin (he has no idea what happened) and says, “That’s ma mon and a good customah! Thanks for being a safe driver and not wreckin’ ma boat!”