A Roman story:
We hosted an exchange student from Italy who spoke zero English. We took him Jet skiing. This is what happened.
“Edoardo have you ever driven a jet ski before?”
“Yes”
“Edoardo, have you ever driven one of these before (pointing at jetski)
“Yes”
“Edoardo (pulling out my translate app, “Hai mai guidato una moto d’acqua prima d’ora?”
“Oh…..no”
I gingerly climb on the back of the jet ski after a small orientation. I whisper as many prayers as I can remember and settle in.
About 75 yards before the “no wake zone” buoy he squeezed the trigger and we launch quickly and violently towards terminal velocity. We reach that speed soon and he keeps the hammer down for about 15 minutes.
I believe he is trying to hit 88 MPH and activate the flux capacitor so we can meet his hero, Marcus Aurelius.
I am white-knuckling this craft while trying to remember to breathe. Soon I am playing out doomsday scenarios in my head. Which way should I aim when I am launched into the air? What angle should I try and get my body to enter the water? Will the explosion be seen from shore?
We meet up with Ramon and Lillian who share one of their own. Ramon and Edo lock eyes and do exactly what you think 2 17-year-olds would do in this very situation. They race.
Ramon wins this round because he found the cheat code on his sled and threw it into sport mode. Edo can’t read English so we remain in normal mode.
A few minutes go by when all of a sudden, a houseboat catches Ramon’s eye. An idea that isn’t fully formed passes through his mind and he gently aims the water rocket about 150 feet behind the houseboat. Edoardo falls in behind him and about 25 feet to his right like we are the Blue Angles.
As Ramon gets too close to do anything preventative and the thought in his mind is now finished, he realizes his eyes have never, in his life, been this wide open. He hits the primary wave of the wake. The machine is soon at a 45-degree angle and completely detached from the earth.
Fight or flight kicks in and Ramon has chosen flight.
Upon returning to Earth, the impact is large enough to eject Lillian. The first thing to hit the lake is her left nostril which results in a refreshing mountain lake nasal flush. She surfaces unharmed.
I start swatting at Edo- telling him to slow down. “No no, slow down!”
“Yes”
I immediately remember all of the safety presentations I have ever seen on every flight I have ever taken and I assume my crash position.
We strike the same wave about 50 feet to the right of the carnage. I start calculating if my affairs are in order as we leap out of the water like a clumsy drunk dolphin. We strike the water hard. Hard enough to eject my 6’1″ driver.
One second he was there. The next second he was gone. I vaguely remember his foot just missing my head as he flew through the air just missing my head. He surfaced about 50 feet from where our vessel came to a halt.
On that vessel, was me. Hands still firmly gripping both “oh shit” handles, taking inventory of all of my faculties and immediately counting the number of teenagers that I was responsible for. One, two, three. 30 fingers, 30 toes. All feeling more alive than they were 30 seconds before.
One of my family’s motto is “Make new memories”. We absolutely made some new ones this past weekend.