These pics were on my other memory card, and I almost forgot I had them until I took random photos this weekend and finally downloaded the whole thing. There are definite downsides to having a Compact Flash card collection.
I think I already mentioned that Aruba is unique in that the sandy beachy side is protected – there are no waves, and it’s almost like a beautiful salt-water lake (with very few Mormons). So you have sparkling white sand, crystal clear water, and…jet skis. And tubes. And these silly banana boat things. Also, inflatable couches that they drag behind really fast boats (I’m not even kidding). Luckily, they rope off a swimming area outside of the resorts, so you aren’t run over by drunken tourists – unless they are skilled enough to hop over the buoys. They also give extensive lessons: “Go. Slow Down. Stop.” That pretty much covers it.
Since Neil is never content to just sit on the beach drinking fruity beverages and pouring over the latest issue of People (what is WRONG with him anyway?!?!), he signed up for a tubing excursion with his manager Todd, and inside sales rep Billy. Neil is an experienced tuber (it’s true!), and he also likes to pretend to be really macho, so I didn’t think there was any way our driver would be able to flip him off the tube. Clearly, I underestimated him (the driver, that is, not Neil). I’m pretty sure Billy had no clue what was about to transpire, if the pleading and begging about halfway into the trip were any indication.
Everything started off well – a leisurely drive while the lines got straightened out, and the boys settled into their tubes.
I think at this point they were wishing they had brought their beers along. Then the driver punched the gas. I managed to strap myself to the metal framework of the boat before I took the Cannon for a dive, and we took a quick pass back by the hotel.
And that’s pretty much the last in-focus picture I took. The rest were a blur of feet and tubes and bellies in all the wrong places, and glimpses of Billy cradling his head in his hands, and muttering, “Please, for the love of god, slow down!!!!” and “DUUUDE! Did you really have to take that corner at 50 mph???” Our driver just kept flashing his huge grin, and chatting up the random boats whizzing by with equally terrified tourists. His favorite technique was to let out a ton of slack in the ropes, and then suddenly take off, whipping the tubes around until they smashed into the wake or each other.
Neil didn’t really seem to mind. I think the beer had kicked in at this point.
They all had some spectacular belly flops that I wish I could share with you, but I’ll leave you with the last stunt of the trip, performed by Todd:
I think if the Olympics adds a tubing event in 2016, we’ll have a serious contender.
