The Time I Almost Died

My class was going on a field trip to Wilderness Adventure. The name alone should have been a clue for me to stay away. I wasn't exactly sure what an adventure in the wilderness would entail. All the girls in my class were viscerally surprised at this development because I wasn't exactly the picture of rugged, outdoorsy athleticism.

As we hopped on the yellow school bus to head for northern Virginia, all of the preppy girls waved me off as if I were a brave G.I. heading off to the unknown terrors of war. I was secretly happy that the girls weren't coming; the guy: girl ration was in my favor and to be the center of attention of so many boys was truly a treat. On the way there, Rob, Nathan, Greg, and Adam harassed...er flirted...with me; they said disgusting things, poked me, and generally acted like idiotic five year olds - in other words, business as usual. Of course, me being a adolescent, I was secretly excited. (In retrospect, I wonder why I didn't learn self-defense at the local martial arts center, like Ashot, and make those guys a knuckle sandwich, but I digress).

Nevertheless, Nathan spent most of the ride giving me the finger and dropping the f bomb, while Rob kept poking me aggressively from the seat behind me. For the next three days, we camped and did outdoorsy things. After spelunking, a horrific experience that is even beyond words, Wallace, a tall hulking guy of 6'4, said to me, "Wow you look like you've been raped." Thanks, Wallace.

The low point of the trip (excluding all that awesome harassment) was when we went kayaking. I was under the mistaken impression that kayaking included a group of us in a boat, rowing in perfect harmony as the setting sun tanned our weathered arms. I was wrong - kayaking is a solo activity that requires a lot of upper body strength, which I tragically did not have.

As we kayaked miles down the river, I was so far behind everyone that a special guide had to stay with me because I was obviously a legal liability. The guy was chatty enough and asked me what I liked to do for fun. I bitterly replied, "Shopping."

Then, my kayak flipped over. I knew I was supposed to extricate myself to save myself from a watery death. But I saw the guide's face looming over me and felt that it was his responsibility, no duty, to save me. But he just stood there, and I just stared at him from beneath the water, trapped in my damn kayak, and I remember thinking, This is it - this is how I'm going to die - on a stupid, class field trip? The urge to live was strong, though, and I wanted to see another day, where Nathan would make obscene comments, and Greg would tell me the disgusting things he had done to dogs. I extricated myself from the canoe and gasped for air, as my classmates looked on with amusement.

I realize now that that moment could have been symbolic of female empowerment - I didn't need no man to save me from drowning! I could do it myself. But in actuality, that time in my life symbolically doesn't really represent the go girl mentality or how I battled with the Great Outdoors and came out triumphant. In reality, this time lets me pinpoint the exact time I realized how much I hate the outdoors. And how the outdoors hates me. We will never be in harmony with each other as are the protagonists of Hemingway's novels - man at peace with nature. We will always be at odds, antagonists, trying to triumph over one another. Me - by pouring fluorocarbons from my air conditioner and gallons of gasoline from my huge SUV into the precious ozone, and nature, sending me obnoxious fliers about the Big White Water Rafting Trip this weekend! And so, next time, dear blog reader, you want to ask me to go rowing on Saturday morning, think better of it.

--By Mariam, who thinks that she has ESP with Farrah because we blog at the exact same time. What next? Matching outfits? P.S. Farrah, I'm wearing my blue hoodie Monday, so coordinate!