Here I Am To Save The Day

Sometimes I think about the days before Jen and the hell raisers. Don't get me wrong I wouldn't trade them for nothing (a million dollars and a boat however would seal the deal). Jen probably saved me from myself but there are still times that I miss my freedom. The freedom of just going. The freedom of doing stupid shit without having to consider the effects of my bad behavior on others. The freedom of not having to worry about tomorrow. If I weren't so sure that I was still in my first childhood, I would swear I was entering my second.

Jen is doing her best to keep me alive. I'm not making it easy for her. I tend to push her to the point where she wants to kill me. She's been doing a lot of research on my diabetes, cooking all the right foods and such. But in my true fashion I am bound and dertermined to kill myself. It's like being back in Florida.

I lived in Florida for a while many years ago. While I was there I bought some scuba equipment. The guy I bought it from wouldn't tell me how to assemble the stuff because I wasn't certified. I took the shit home and figured it out. I could inhale and exhale through the shit. Good enough for me. I went scuba diving. I'm lucky I survived. When I went to get the tanks refilled (they wouldn't do it because I wasn't certified) The guy told me about all the things that could happen to me. I sold him the equipment, cheap.

The next stupid thing I did was, swim with the manatees. I was headed for the beach and saw a bunch of hippie types grooving on the experience of watching the manatees head inland. I had heard that you could swim with them as long as you didn't approach them. Just get in the water and let them come to you. What I didn't understand was why all the nature loving hippies were just standing there. Why weren't they in the water? I dove in. I'll admit it was thrilling. The manatees wasted no time coming to check me out, and the hippies seemed pretty excited about it to, as much yelling as they were doing. I'm lucky I survived. When I got back to shore I was informed by one of the locals that I was swimming in the Anclote River not a salt water canal. In other words, full of gators. Seems a few years before some hippie jumped in with the manatees and the gators used his bones to pick their teeth. Guess it's a good think they don't have a taste for assholes.

Now for the SUPER STUPID. Before I tell this story I just want to say don't try this at home, I managed to survive because I am a professional idiot.

One day my partner in crime (Chuck) and I decided to take the boat out to Anclote Island. This was way before all the repair work that has been done to the light house and island itself. The island is only 3 miles out so it's not really any great feat to get out there. Sometimes coming back can be a real bitch depending on how dark it is and the tide. We always used the lights from a nearby nuclear power plant to find our way home at night.

This time out was a beautiful day. It was me, Chuck, his wife and kids. We spent the day swimming around and fishing. It was getting to be late afternoon and we figured we better pack up and head home. Just as we got everything loaded and headed for the main land the wind picked up. It was slow going because this wind was coming from the north east and holding us back. We could see a storm coming from inland headed right at us. It was nasty. The first thing that disappeared was the power plant and then the marker buoys. Chuck asked my opinion, and I screamed head for the island. I figured it's been there a long time, it has an old light house, if we had to we could hole up there and hopefully not drown.

We never made the light house. The storm caught us just before we made it back to the island and the tiny ship was tossed. Repeatedly. The boat was lifted by the waves and then they would just disappear, at which point the boat would slam against the gulf floor. Chucks wife was crying, his kids were screaming and he was freaking the fuck out trying to secure the cover on the boat so his wife wouldn't mess up her hair. We were about 20 yards from the island, I knew if we made it to actual land we stood a chance. If we didn't, the boat was going to get smashed against the gulf floor and we would all probably drown. So I put on my cape and became Super Idiot.

I grabbed the rinky dink little anchor and the next time the waves dropped us I jumped out of the boat and ran for the island. I could see the waves coming at me through peripheral vision (it's a gift) and I dove onto the ground, stuck the anchor in and held my breath. Now I'm under water, but not for long. The waves just disappeared again. I jump up and run some more, dive, stab, inhale, hold onto my nuts and the anchor, hold my breath and wait. Waves come in, waves go out. Repeat and rinse. After four or five times I was finally on what should have been dry land, but it's raining like a bitch. Now every time the waves lift the boat, I pull it closer (19ft boat, small by boat standards), and reset the anchor. Everythings going to be alright now. I'm on land, just a little (lot) bit of wind and rain to deal with. The boat is still being smashed against the ground but they're close enough to land and they're all hanging on. Super Idiot is going to save the day. Then I see the wave of all waves. It must have been 100 ft (exaggeration) tall. I'm not sure how big it was, but it was fucking huge. It picked up the boat and threw it at me, I turned, ducked and grabbed the anchor. The water enveloped me and twisted me around pushing me inland, then it did what all waves do. It headed back out to sea. I was twisted again and pulled me towards the gulf. Davy Jones had me by the ankles and was pulling as hard as he could but I wasn't letting go. I won.

Just like that the storm was over. Rain was gone. Wind was gone. Waves were gone. So was the boat. The water was clear again and you could see blue paint on the gulf floor where the boat had slammed down. I stood there looking out at sea and I couldn't see the boat. Then I heard Chuck behind me.

Chuck: "Hey asshole. How are we going to get this boat back in the water?"

I turned around and there stood Chuck, his wife and kids and the fucking boat. They were about 20 feet inland. It wasn't even on the beach. Seems the last wave had carried the boat right over me and set it down. I guess Mother Nature decided if she couldn't drown me and I wanted that boat on land, then it was going to be on land.

After about three hours of pushing, pulling, crying, and pleading, we finally go the boat back in the water. It was a lot heavier on land than it was in the water. Funny how that works. We finally get back to the marina and head home. We were walking to the house and Chucks wife and kids are complaining non-stop.

Trashman: "I don't know what y'all are bitching about. I had to pull that piece of shit in two different directions."
Chucks Wife: "If it weren't for you we wouldn't have had to pull it at all."
Trashman: "If it weren't for me, the coast guard would probably be fishing your dead bodys out of the water."
Chucks Wife: "Oh aren't you the hero."
Trashman: "Get it right. I'm a fucking SUPER Hero."
Chuck: "Look in the water, it's a sub. No it's a torpedo. Could it be a fish? No. It's Super Idiot."
Trashman: "Fuck you Chuck. Next time drown."
Chuck: "I heard about a boat wreck about five miles out. You wanna go snorkeling tomorrow?"
Trashman: "You know Super Idiots Motto."
Chuck: "What's that?"
Trashman: "If it's dangerous and stupid, count me in."