Flotation Device

On our first day in Hawaii, Steve and I went to the dive shop to rent snorkel gear.

While the sales girl, Molly, was ringing us up, Steve said, “I’m so excited for our surf lesson.”

“I can’t wait to kayak,” I said.

“Hopefully we’ll have time to paddleboard,” Steve added.

Molly smiled, obviously impressed with our athletic prowess.

Surfing! Paddle Boarding! Kayaking!*

What a spry, young couple!

Molly handed us our snorkel and fins. “Anything else?” she asked.

“I think we’re good,” Steve said.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Maybe a flotation device?”

DID SHE JUST SAY FLOTATION DEVICE?!

Does she think we’re 2?

Or 102?

“We’re good,” Steve said.

“The swells have been pretty big lately,” Molly said. “Last week I had to save 6 Canadians.”

Molly then went into a dramatic reenactment of how she single-handedly rescued six Canadians from near death.

I think perhaps Molly tells tall-tales.

But I wasn’t really listening to how Molly saved half a dozen hosers. 

All I heard was, Flotation Device.

Well, we showed her.

We went surfing and our instructor said we were naturals.

He said it with his eyes.

Our kayaking and paddle board skills were nothing short of masterful.

Masterful, mediocre, whatever.

After each activity, Steve and I would shake our heads and scoff, “Flotation Device!”

On the second to last day, we went snorkeling.

The usual calm waters were choppy, threatening to push us into the rocks..

I guess Molly wasn’t a total liar.

But a FLOTATION DEVICE?

Nice try, Molly.

As the water became increasingly rough, Steve and I decided to head in.

We were about 50 yards from shore when a ginormous wave appeared.

“WATCH OUT!” Steve warned before being pounded by the wave.

I turned just in time to have the same wall of water crash down upon me.

Because I was still wearing my mask, I was able to clearly see the wave pummeling me.

Water, sand, water, sand, water, sand.

Good News: I can still do a somersault!

The ocean finally spit us both out on shore.

We tried to help each other up (with fins still on) and ended up toppling over, entangled in one another.

Picture From Here To Eternity but with less sex appeal and more snorkel gear.

The good news is we did NOT need a flotation device.

Which is what we reminded ourselves at the airport the following day.

“Flotation device,” Steve scoffed, as we made our way through security.

“Especially with how we rode those waves,” I said, walking through the X-ray machine.

Rode waves, pummeled by waves, same thing.

And that’s when the beeping went off.

I removed clothing.

Beep, beep, beep.

I removed jewelry.

Beep, beep, beep.

“I don’t know what it could be,” I said.

The TSA agent sized me up.

“A hip replacement will set off the alarm,” he said.

I miss the days when people just thought I needed a flotation device.

*For more on our kayaking fun, check out Too Many Cooks In the Kayak!