My first time on the water in Miami was a bit of a disaster. I was on assignment for Deco Drive to get the deets on a new jet ski company specializing in showcasing the Magic City from a bay/ocean point-of-view. The idea was pretty cool, but I didn’t feel altogether comfortable being on the back of a jet ski, zipping around the city, for several reasons…
First off, I wasn’t exactly a “water girl.” I grew up in the desert; more specifically, in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I enjoyed hiking, cave exploring and horseback riding. The only body of water remotely worth spending time around was the Rio Grande River, which we affectionately nicknamed “The Rio Sandy.”
It was beyond dry, parched and riddled with rattlesnakes, who were always looking for shade, water and someone to sink their teeth into. Let’s just say, that kind of atmosphere did nothing for my swimming abilities and/or my love of the water. Making matters worse, as an aspiring television reporter, I reluctantly moved my way around the U.S., living in small, dusty country towns best known for their beef, not their beaches.
By the time I arrived in Miami, I had a healthy fear of the water and didn’t understand why everyone basked/baked in the sun and boated their way around the bay, the Keys, even the Bahamas. I came to South Florida because it was a well-known television gateway. If you worked in Miami you were destined for a national TV show; better yet, you could even get picked up by the Network. A day at the beach wasn’t exactly my intention. That is…
Until I found myself in a skimpy bathing suit, straddling the back of a jet ski, holding onto some guy I barely knew for dear life. Upon seeing my nervous disposition, he quickly scolded me: “Stop being such a scaredy-cat, relax and trust me.” Yeah, famous last words. As we made our way into the water and the “ocean crotch rocket” started picking up speed, I quietly cursed my Deco Drive Assignments Editor and told my new pal: “Please don’t go fast and remember, I’m not a good swimmer.”
“That’s what your life jacket is for, you idiot,” he screamed over the ear-bending engine noise. With my camera man directly across from me (on another jet ski,) we took off into the abyss and I have to say, it was one of the most terrifying, frightening, horrendous experiences of my life. Over ten years later, it’s still Deco fodder.
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