Whale Riding

I’ve decided. I’m done with winter. Done with the snow, done with the ice, and so done with the biting air that freezes my nose hairs. Unfortunately however, I don’t think it’s done with me. Sigh…  I suppose I will use this blog post to simply give summer to myself, despite the fact it is the middle of January.

Like I mentioned in my previous post, I traveled to Mexico, Guatemala and Belize for a month this past spring with my school for the Mesoamerica tour. We ended our trip in the beautiful, and touristy, Playa del Carmen, Mexico. It was the night before our one free day of the entire trip in which we could do whatever we wanted, so we were determined to make it good.

One girl had the idea of buying blow-up whales so we could play with them in the water the next day. We thought this idea was beyond genius. The directors of the trip had allotted us each about $50 worth of pesos to spend there, so after walking to Wal-Mart, we figured if we each pitched in about $4, we could get not one, but two of the air-laden mammals. Done.

When we got back to the hotel that night, we took turns blowing them up and like every other animal we had found throughout the trip (be that toads, geckos, tarantulas, etc.) we named them Peggy—Big Peggy and Little Peggy to be exact.

They were identical.

At one point that night, the Peggys went sailing over the hotel balcony somehow and soared down four flights below, but I think that is another story.

The next morning, it was time for the beach, and with our new purchases, that also meant it was time to take our Peggys for their maiden voyages. They sure made it easy to find my friends on the beach among the many other swimmers. Just look for the two giant whales bobbing around.

I waded through the warm salty water as I watched my friends try to catch a few waves with them for awhile before it was my turn to give them a go. I grabbed hold of Big Peggy (or was it Little?) and took her out in the water. I have to say, as I timidly mounted that whale, I felt a little ridiculous. Nevertheless, I paddled myself over to the surf and waited under that gorgeously golden sun for the perfect wave.

After a few teasers that were just big enough to tip me off balance, there appeared the mother of all whale-riding waves. In one swift motion, the wave lifted me up, and I began to soar.

 Any bashfulness I may have felt before evaporated and floated through the air along with my squeals of delight. I held onto that whale for dear life as she picked up speed. It was quite liberating, really.

Flying on a whale. There isn’t a feeling like it.

Suddenly, Peggy got a bit squirmy and kicked me off balance. I toppled into the surf, the water churning me head over heels in the wave, shooting salt water in my eyes, nose and mouth. After a few somersaults, I finally popped up, covered in sand and sputtering, partly because of the salt water and partly because I couldn’t stop laughing.

Amid my tumbling, however, Peggy had escaped my grasp and began blowing down the beach faster than I could run. “Oh no!” I shouted, and this is where I commenced my rescue attempt. I started splashing through two feet of water, past the topless sunbathers and jealous 5 year-olds as I waved my arms yelling, “Come back, Peggy!”

Suddenly I was plagued with a vision of how I must have looked. A 20 year-old college student stumbling through knee-deep water after a blow-up whale named Peggy skimming across the beach just out of reach was simply too much for me. I doubled over in laughter and gasped for air as Peggy continued her escapade with ever-growing vigor.

Have no fear though; I eventually caught Peggy by some unexplainable phenomenon. With head held high, I marched her back to safety. I think I almost killed 15 students that day who were near drowning from excessive laughter.

Who knew a blow-up whale could provide such wholesome beach entertainment?