(the) Jebbica » Blog Archive » Tu-Be or Not Tu-Be

Tu-Be or Not Tu-Be

Now that a good week has passed from this incident, I can hopefully get enough distance from it where it will now be just another one of those funny stories. You know the ones, the ones that are so ridiculous that you can’t help but break into hysterics when retelling it later, but at the time, it’s a different kind of hysterics you’re in, because it’s so disastrous you can’t believe it’s really happening!

Yeah, this was totally like that. But, I kind of relish that part about life, how something can seem so awful at one point in time, and then it’s just funny. And to prove to you that I actually do have a good sense of humor about the whole thing, I’m even going to post horrible, unflattering photos of myself. And it’s usually a cold day in hell before I post a photo worthy of this one!

But on with the story.

So, a bunch of people from my office decided to take a rafting trip on the Hiwassee River. I had gone rafting with some friends on the Nantahala River last year and actually LOVED it, and even though I heard Hiawassee wasn’t going to be as fun (nicknamed “Hi-wussy”, after all), I readily agreed to go. I always thought of myself as a fish in a past life…anything in water always came kind of natural to me, unlike dancing, walking, and anything involving a ball.

When it changed from a rafting to a tubing trip, I was game. I mean, I had never really gotten in a tube before, and since they said it was more dangerous than rafting but I knew the river was allegedly more bland than the other one, I assumed it would basically balance out on a scale of fun-ness. When I told The Boyfriend we were going tubing instead, he said, “oh no, you are not going to like it…trust me! Tubing sucks!”

I ignored him, as always.

We were all supposed to meet at a Cracker Barrel about 40 minutes away at 7:30 am. The Boyfriend is not a morning person, especially when he doesn’t get to sleep until about 4 a.m. The drive there was foggy, and we almost never figured out how to get into the Cracker Barrel (you’d think that something that’s immediately off the interstate would have a turn-off, right? No! You have to go through a motel parking lot, then turn a corner, hop on one foot with your eyes closed to get there). There were 35 of us there, and since these were my coworkers and one of my bosses I had talked so much about, I was excited for The Boyfriend to meet all of them. He embarrassed me immediately. The waitress came to take our order, and I was good! I ordered scrambled Egg Beaters and a bran muffin. The Boyfriend asked the waitress, “I see you have a one egg, one slice of bacon breakfast, and you have biscuits and gravy. But is there a way I can get one egg, one slice of bacon, and a side of gravy without paying $7 for it?” She pointed out to him exactly what he had shown her on the menu. “I CAN READ!!” he yelled, instantly drawing all the attention our way, as I ducked under the table. I think the waitress hid under the table, too, but she brought him what he asked for for $3 instead.

After filling up our gas tanks, we started our convoy into the Tennessee mountains. Immediately, before I even got onto the interstate, I turned left at what I thought was a green arrow but wasn’t, following the car in front of me, and almost got hit. The day was doomed from the beginning! They all switched lanes so much that I almost had 4 wrecks on the way there. I hate driving.

We arrived ahead of schedule, but it was already starting to get hot. I had on my bathing suit–a two-piece that covered everything–a pair of The Boyfriend’s basketball shorts, a tank top, a t-shirt, and some Skecher’s water shoes I got at Family Dollar for $3 (shopping win!). However, my female coworkers decided they were going to let it all hang out if you know what I mean, and since I was one of the smallest ones there, I decided it wouldn’t be embarrassing to ditch the modesty and take off the t-shirt and tank top and go ahead and go in my swimsuit top and shorts. (Judging from my photos and my sunburn, though, I should have left the t-shirt on!) I borrowed some sunscreen and liberally applied to my arms, face, and shoulders. My legs never get sun, no matter what I do to them, so I figured they’d be okay. Mistake.

The renters passed out life jackets, which cost extra (they didn’t at Nantahala), and they were covered in stench and mold. The Boyfriend and I traded ours in for highlighter yellow foam ones, which were slightly more comfortable and less stinky. We waited forever to get started, and it was already getting hot.

Around noon, a school bus and a truck came to pick us up to take us to our destination. There were four seats left on the bus, and they expected all 35 of us to be able to fit on the bus and the 10-person truck. So, there were a lot of people standing on the bus. The driver decided to take us up the very curvy mountain on two wheels. In the middle of the road. At 100 miles an hour. Most people were scared to death, with many of us grumbling, “well, if we can survive the freakin’ bus ride, tubing will be a piece of cake!” After nearly flipping over at one point, we did finally get to get off, shaken but not stirred. Was there not going to be a safety lesson, like they gave at Nantahala?

Nope, here are the tubes…have fun!

Now, when I heard tubing, I thought it was going to be something a bit more sophisticated than an inflatable donut. But no. Stick your butt down in it and go. So we did, and it was slow-going. I thought, wow, this might be kind of relaxing! Immediately, my boss, who isn’t a small lady, flipped over. Her daughter, scared that her mommy was hurt, jumped out of her tube. The Boyfriend and I tried to make our way over to help, but I was still trying to get the hang of maneuvering the damn thing, and off I floated down the river.

That was the last I saw of The Boyfriend.

Eventually, I got away from the rest of my party, too, once I figured out what I was doing, I was all alone, having the time of my life. This was my kind of activity, I thought. I belong in the water. I was making a game out of avoiding trees and rocks, and trying to get myself in the best rapids. I was just thinking that I probably didn’t even need that tube or that stupid life vest when…whoa! I hit a rapid that knocked me clear out of my tube. That was different. I didn’t mind falling out, but how the hell did I get back in? The river had been so shallow up until this point, so I should be able to stand up and just hop back in, right? Wrong. Of course you couldn’t touch bottom here. What do I do? There, in the middle of the river, people were stopping at a giant log to catch up with their friends. If I could just get over there, I could use the log as leverage as I stuck my butt back in the tube. However, no matter how hard I swam, the current wouldn’t allow it. And if I ever did touch the river floor, the current would have be back on my ass before I could get my other foot on it.

I started to panic. I yelled for help. People on kayaks looked at me like I was an idiot. I asked a lady if I could hold onto a paddle until I could reach the log. She told me I could hold onto the back of her boat, which turned violently in my hand every time she moved forward. I couldn’t hang on. She shrugged and told me to swim to the side and try to touch shallow ground there and drifted away. Of course that was the first thing I had tried, so I felt exasperated. Eventually, though, I DID manage to get back in, sobered by the thought that I wasn’t as great in the water as I thought I was, and if I made it out of here alive, it would be a miracle.

Once I was back in, I tightened my life jacket and my grip on the tube’s handles. I’m not going to let that happen again! In a tube, you’re constantly spinning in a circle, so sometimes you don’t see what is coming ahead. No sooner than I had gotten back into my tube, but I felt a WHOOSH, and I was going down another rapid, backwards. I gripped my donut for dear life, thinking that would keep me from falling off and going under. It didn’t. In fact, all it did was hold me under for longer, as the donut was now on top of my head, and I was underwater, my hand and head both hitting rocks. I emerged dizzily, my sunglasses and my tube floating down the river. I sat straight down in the rapid and waited for a helicopter to come and rescue me.

A helicopter never came; can you believe that?! In fact, the Hiwassee River didn’t even have any kind of staff that would help people if they got in a pickle. We were literally on our own. People were passing me left and right on the rapid, and I just sat there, dazed and confused. I had hit my head, after all. Apparently I was sobbing, but I didn’t know it. Finally, a nice older gentleman in a Funyak came to help me and told me to get in his yak with him. The details around this time are fuzzy, because I don’t really remember what it was like in the Funyak or how we both fit in a one-person boat, or how someone managed to get my tube back to me. I just know I wanted it to be over and I wanted to be on dry land NOW!

I remember thinking it was odd that Wilford Brimley had come to my rescue, and that he was asking if I knew my own name. I kept waiting for him to say dia-beet-us, but he never did.

Wilford, who was a high school principle from Alabama, had worked on the Ocoee for twenty years. He tied my recovered tube to his Funyak and pulled over to the side of the river, telling me he would stay with me and wait on my friends. The Ocoee is notoriously more dangerous than either the Hi-wussy or the Nantahala, so he seemed like he knew what he was doing. I wasn’t really to do this alone again yet. I asked Wilford how could I get out, just walk back? He said I could climb up the bank and take the train tracks back, but that would be dangerous. It would be safer just to float on down the river for the remaining miles. How much time would I have to be on this crappy thing? Oh, not long, only about three hours to go.

THREE HOURS!!!!????

I must have really gotten far ahead of my friends, because it was a good while before I saw any signs of familiarity. I kept waiting for The Boyfriend to show up, but he never did. He was busy having his own traumatic experience. The first person to surface was Mama Hen, my favorite office friend (everyone’s my favorite office friend though, really). She promised she would hang onto my float and we could finish together. I sniffled, okay, but I want to stay tied to Wilford Brimley for right now until I can regain my courage. So, Mama Hen lasted about two minutes getting knocked by the Funyak, and off she went.

After she left me, I thought that if Wilford didn’t mind, I’d just stay tied up to his Funyak for the duration. He didn’t mind, but his grandson kept saying, “why do we have this girl again?”. I felt much safer with this total stranger than I did with a bunch of people I knew and loved but who complained about the 100-ft. walk from one office building to the next at work. Seriously…if we think we need a golf cart to carry us between buildings, what makes us think we can tube five miles down a river?

Wilford’s grandson made the best of my situation, splashing me and playing bumper boats with his Funyak and my tube. His little friend thought he’d try to pick me up, trying to be smooth when he said, “so, how young are ya?” and winking at me. Towards the end, I started having fun again, but I could feel my legs begin to tingle. That was odd.

Smile, Jebbica! You’re on camera!

I’d recognize those fat arms anywhere.

Hey, how come Wilford and Mama Hen get cool shots, and I get a ponytail?

Oh, there I am. Man, that’s a hot look for me! Which one am I: Beavis, or Butthead?

I need to get those added to my Model Mayhem portfolio ASAP.

I could have kissed the ground when we reached dry land. “We’re going again…wanna come?” Wilford asked me. “NO!” I said, as politely as I could. FIVE HOURS on a stupid river is long enough. And I was the first one of our group off of it, except for one guy, who also had an excellent story to tell. His tube busted, leaving him to hitchhike back to the starting point. He also lost his wallet in the river.

As people we knew started emerging from the river, all had similar horror stories and bad sunburns. We ranged from tomato to beet, as five hours in a river will do to you, no matter how much sunscreen you slather on. (Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to have sunburned knees? Every time you walk, it’s like, ow! ow! ow!) The Boyfriend was one of the last people, an hour separating him from me. He had spent his trip helping my boss, who he said fell out of her tube at least 20 times. He had also hit his head in a flip that took the boss’ daughter with him. He felt terrible. But where were my boss and her daughter? Everyone was worried about them. The last thing he knew, they had decided to take the train tracks back, which was dangerous and impossible for anyone to get to them. However, we later found out they had gotten back in the water and had finished the excursion alone. The Boss was crying when she finally reached dry land, throwing her tube at me and nearly running me over in an effort to get the hell out of there and never return.

After a vow that we would never ever tube again, we headed in our separate cars to eat and head home. Something about water makes you absolutely ravenous, and another coworker informed me that there was a hamburger joint just down the road. We drove to the end of the road, but no hamburger place. In fact, is was quite a few miles until we did find somewhere to change our clothes and eat. One of the best hamburgers I’ve ever eaten, and I don’t care how many calories it was.

It poured down rain on the way home, leaving us to pull over several times. Every time it would slack off and we would start driving again, it would start pouring again. I had to drive over a dangerous mountain, and I was BEGGING God to please let it slack off until I could get off the mountain. He complied, but decided to throw in some thick-as-pea-soup fog. We finally got home around midnight, and I was never so happy to see my nice warm bed in my life.

Next time we plan an office trip, I think we’ll just go out to eat.