The Vacationer WC 281

The Vacationer
WC 281

The first wave took me out to sea on my trusty rubber floaty. I am a little farther out than I’m comfortable with. I’m not really a swimmer, I’m more of a dog paddler.

I’m trying to paddle back toward shore, but the waves keep carrying me farther and farther into the dark water where the sharks troll; I’m beginning to panic.

I’ve never been a fan of large bodies of water; they are too deep, and strange life lurks in the depth of their waters. This realization makes me wonder why I am floating on a blow-up rubber raft in the OCEAN.

FOR GOODNESS SAKE, WOMAN.

Steadying my mind, I retrace my steps. I woke up this morning, had a cup of coffee, then shopped a bit at the hotel gift shop. I bought a muumuu with huge red flowers splashed all over it. It made me look like a beached whale, but I slipped the muumuu over my ample body and continued waddling through town.

I met a fellow vacationer, Joan, for a few drinks at a place called the Mahalo Hut.

Retracing my steps, I realize I must have had more than a few Mai Tais.

I remember Joan saying, “Are you okay to drive?” even though she knew I had walked. So Joan was drunk, too.

“I didn’t drive,” I remember saying.

“Are you okay to walk?”

I assured her I was, and walked on toward Hotel Wailea, my home for the next three days.
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Then I remember collapsing on my king-sized bed in my floral muumuu. That’s all I remember.

So why am I floating out to sea on a rubber floaty?

Is this a dream? I sure hope so.