The Rising Of The Sides, And The Kiwi Kayak Debacle--

Drifting around the Internet today like a rotten log afloat in a swollen marsh, it occurred to me that I needed to have more trouble in my life. I’m too easy going and I don’t have any real complaints that raise my blood pressure and make me want to rant and rant and rant.

Just being alive has always been enough of a miraculous thing for me to keep me numbly smiling, and so my attention doesn’t always notice the horrific things going on in my life, which means YOU don’t get to wallow with me, and commiserate, and help me bemoan.

Which makes me an Internet party pooper of sorts.

So to join in the fracas, I’d like to tell you about my rising center of gravity.

Yes. I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? And there seems to be no end to the migration in sight. The legs get thinner and thinner. The buttocks fades from its glory days, and the zone between the solar plexus and the spot where a belt is supposed to cinch up, just keeps growing and growing. Add to that the chubby cheek syndrome, and the fat that wants to cling to once taught pectoral protuberances, and you can see why I am so distraught.

IT ALL MAKES ME SO EFFING INCREDIBLY ANGRY!!!

Mum has a little yellow kayak that she brought up with her from California. It’s called a Kiwi kayak, and I am sure, many of you have either seen one or paddled around in one. They are pretty small, and cute, and are great for an amusing afternoon paddle down at the lake or in a relatively calm flowing river.

I used to grab Mum’s Kiwi kayak all the time, and just throw it in the water and goof around in it. It was always too small for me, and one time, four or five years ago, caused me some humorous consternation when I took a small dog with me out on to the lake that is nestled a block away from Mum’s house. I put the dog on my lap, and paddled around for twenty minutes or so, heading out into the center of the lake where I started to notice my legs falling asleep.

There was nothing I could do, I barely fit in the little thing, and I had a 30 pound dog on top of my thighs.

I felt the tingle turn to absolute dead-limbs about five minutes before I even got to shore. When I pulled up in shallow water to a picnic area, the damn dog jumped off my lap and started chasing around the ducks and geese. There were people getting upset by this, and I thought I better do something to stop it. I leaned over and fell out of my little kayak, and just lay there in the mud. I had ZERO feeling in my legs. I was a paraplegic for all intents and purposes. I had to crawl in the mud with my hands and arms, dragging my extra long and skinny legs behind me like… well, a paraplegic.

People were watching me, and their yelling at me for letting my dog run wily-nilly (it was my girlfriend’s long-haired Sharpei, which had no clue about hurting ducks and geese) turned to silent swallowing of what they had just yelled at me, for now they all felt bad, seeing me come in without the use of my legs and all.

I felt like a seal coming in for my fish. I pulled myself and my little kayak out of the mud and up the bank, and yelled at the damn dog, which had no business chasing ducks and geese.

“Mutz! Get over here!”

Mutz was too busy running from a disgruntled goose to care about what I was yelling.

I could feel my legs going into that painful tingly mode. I could also feel the eyes of about thirty people, most of them warmly drunk on afternoon beer in the park, watching me.

I thought I had enough feeling in my legs now to stand, but when I tried, I toppled down pretty hard on my shoulder. I slapped at my painful tingly legs some more, and sat up, and then tried again to stand.

This time, I was able to get on my feet, but I was surely wobbly. I walked around in circles, the miracle of feelings coming back to me, the crowd of people watching me thinking all manner of absurd and religious thoughts…

I took wobbly steps that led to some not so wobbly steps. In my anger over the dog not obeying me, I found myself running full speed at that damn dog who wouldn’t listen to me, catching her by surprise (and dropping a few jaws, I am sure.)

But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.

No.

I wanted to tell you about TODAY. This day. And my horrifically rising center of gravity.

When Mum and I went to Walmart, I brought home a nice model to play with in my pool. I also brought home a 50 dollar life jacket, a good one, an XXXL with adjustable straps.

I had never worn life jackets much, even when I should have, because they had always been too small, and I had always been too sure of myself and all of that nonsense.

But for some reason, when I saw them hanging in the sporting goods section (where I have all of my existential moments), I decided it was time for me to own a life jacket that actually held my mouth and nose out of the water.

I knew I wanted to get out on the lake and paddle around in that Kiwi kayak, and so, as I usually did while in the sporting section of a store, I made plans and purchases to profoundly change my life.

Today was one of those weird June days where a storm front was moving through. Instead of 90 degrees or more, it was 65. We got some warm rain around 2 o’clock, which is important, because I got a ride down to the lake at quarter to two. Mum’s husband was heading into town to do banking and drug buying. I threw the kayak in the back of his truck and hitched a ride down the half- mile or so to the lake’s edge.

I put on my new fifty dollar life jacket, set the kayak on a small berm so that I could get into it and slide down mud into the water thereby staying dry and looking pretty gosh darn cool.

I got in the kayak (just barely) and grabbed the kayak paddles and pushed off and slid in the shallow water and turned upside down.

Crap!

I was wet now, including my T-shirt and life jacket. Fine. I can handle wet. I got into the kayak carefully, my legs pressing against all sides unmercifully, and off I went.

I’m built for kayaking. I got skinny legs and really strong shoulders and arms. I can scoot. I can skedaddle. I can really motor with a paddle and a kayak.

The trouble was, my goddamn center of gravity!

Yes!

It had crept upward, like I said, and I could not for the life of me settle in and get a good rhythm going. I felt like I was constantly trying to keep my bottom from becoming my top and vice versa. My paddling amounted to a kind of desperate flailing, with each stroke pushing my top back upright, keeping my bottom down where it belonged. I motored along alright, heading straight out into the center of the lake ( I was going to cross the lake for exercise) and then it happened.

The inclement weather meant that there were no other people on the lake. It was just me and my new life jacket and my too-small-for-me Kiwi kayak and my big shoulders motoring along, trying to keep my balance…

I saw it coming the way a sailor would. The extra-rough ripples. The tell-tale arced line.

A gust of wind was heading in my direction. A fairly big gust, by the looks of it.

I concentrated on getting my nose pointing right into it. I was way too high-gravity for any other action.

But I failed. I must have been 5 degrees off of centered into the wind. The wind felt like a 25 mph healthy and heavy gust. Great and a lot of fun for sailing. Not so good when you are way too tall and heavy for the little kayak you are crammed into.

The nose of my kayak shifted a little to the side, and I was blown straight over into the water.

Yes. Dumped out, right into the middle of the lake. There was no one around. Just me and my life jacket and my paddle and my little Kiwi kayak, that I could not, for the life of me, get back into.

I spent well over ten minutes hopping up onto this little plastic toy, trying to get into it as it rolled over and dumped me over and over. I was getting huge mouthfuls of green icky bass fishing water full of blue-gill poop. I was feeling pretty silly and desperate and eventually exhausted.

There was nothing for me to do, but to lay back in the water in my new jacket, and swim to shore.

I swam in the direction the wind was blowing me. I leaned against my new life jacket and relaxed. After twenty minutes of frog kicking and tugging on my Mum’s ridiculous little toy, I got ashore.

I climbed out of the water and the rain started coming down heavy.

I walked home carrying the damn kayak while flipping and flopping in my flip-flops in the rain.

Mum’s husband was going to swing by the lake and pick me up in another hour.

Mum was surprised to see me.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I got too damn big for your kayak!” I answered.

“Let me get a picture, then!” she suggested.

“Oh what the hell! Why not?” I said.

It would give me something to complain about, on the Internet.

ADDENDUM- Here Is Another Kayaking Tale- Jonnie D. And The Over-Inflatable Tahiti