I Am a Lifesaver; I Am a Sister; I Had Vodka

This  week, I was on vacation at the Jersey Shore. I was not anywhere near where the Jersey Shore TV show hangs out. I was in Long Beach Island, an idyllic shore community  where the sun always shines, the beach goers are always happy and supposedly the Housewives of New Jersey have summer homes.  While the vacation was everything I thought it would be, we did have a harrowing moment that will live with my sister and I forever. Okay, the harrowing parts of the story depend upon  whether you  think vodka can distort my memory. You decide which version is true. My sister is sworn to secrecy.

The Vodka-Tonic Version of the Tale:

I was sitting in my beach chair reading 50 Shades of Grey when I heard a blood-curdling scream emanating from the water. I looked up and saw my sister being pulled out to sea. I wasn’t sure what was dragging her into the deep abyss. It could have been the rough surf or some malicious riptide or maybe a creature who found its way into the shallow waters. But it did not matter.  I knew what I had to do. I threw my book to the ground, bookmarked the page, because I didn’t want to lose where I was in that sex scene, and darted for the water.  I heard whistles from the lifeguard telling me to stop, but I ignored them. I grabbed their red buoy thing that was laying in the sand (like the ones the chicks in Bay watch used) and flung myself into the angry sea.  I must have paddled for a mile, but I kept going knowing  that I was my sister’s only chance for survival.  Finally, I reached her tired body just as it was going to give up. I flung her arms over the buoy and paddled into shore. The lifeguards finally met us in the shallow water, and that is when she looked at me and gasped,  “My Darling Sister, you saved my life.”

The non-alcoholic version of the tale:

My sister and I walked to the water for a quick dunk.  We stood at the ocean’s edge and noticed not only the rough surf but the thousands of shells and rocks that  formed a painful obstacle path between the beach and the sandbar. As we gingerly walked our way into the ocean, we both emitted a constant stream of “Ouch, Damn rocks, God, that hurts! Ow!”  The waves were crashing close to shore. Our feet were in constant pain. Finally, after 10 minutes, we made our way into ankle deep water.  Out of nowhere,  a tidal wave crashed upon us ( okay, a three-foot wave).  I managed to keep a solid footing, but my sister was knocked down.  I tried to grab her, but the ocean was relentless. Wave after wave kept knocking her down.  Truth be told, we were both laughing hysterically which made it doubly hard to recoup from a violent wave attack.  Finally, there was a lull, and I regained enough composure to pull my sister to her feet.  In retrospect, there is a slight chance that there was no real danger to her life at all. But before I pulled my sister to her feet, I did make sure that all her body parts were correctly housed inside her suit.  That is sort of being a lifesaver, isn’t it?