This is my childhood nightmare.
All through the blazing, sticky-moist, dog-star-pooing-all-over-your-shoes summer, Nick was keen on going to this waterpark. Supposedly the best in Western Japan, and world record holder for highest number of waterslides per square metre. His enthusiasm was like that of a small child being offered a kaleidoscope or a playing card smeared in chocolate or any object. I was a little more reserved, for reasons that anyone who has seen me try to swim will understand.
I don't like water. I have grudgingly accepted that I need it to live, but outside of the appropriate parameters I'm not really happy with the whole concept. I don't like water in my eyes or up my nose. When I am in a body of water, I am not graceful, nor do I accept the situation with grace, instead flailing as if fighting the water will turn it back into air and earth. My P.E. teachers laughed and cried and stamped their feet in a series of one-man operas. I can swim well enough to not die, probably. Anything past that gets a bit murky.
But new things are the order of the day. I live in a faraway country. I tried weird fish. (Carp-e diem?) Most importantly, shut up I'm not a chicken YOU are. Off I went to a waterpark!
Nagashima Spaland is comprised of a shopping centre, a set of waterslides and a set of rollercoasters, and the most reassuring thing about the waterpark was that the rollercoasters looked far, far worse. A fear to conquer another day. I approached the first slide with jellylegs. It was the kind where you swirl around in a bowl, before falling into a pool through a hole in the middle. It reminded me of the charity bins you used to throw coins into in McDonalds.
Not pictured: my screams.
"Can I go ahead of you?" I asked Nick. "If I don't do it right now I won't do it at all." When I took a breath and pushed myself down the slide, there were a few nanoseconds of pleasure interspersed mainly with upset and lizard-brain fear. After a few dodgy laps of the bowl I dropped through the hole like a weight. I think my foot found the surface first and through waggling of all limbs I somehow uprighted myself. The lifeguard at the bottom looked concerned.
Two or three more slides followed. I had the same feelings: anxiety, trepidation, small bursts of adrenaliney something that might have been fun. It was on the fourth slide, I think - a tube slide mostly in darkness - when it clicked. I was about a third of the way down when it happened. I stopped being scared. I got it. The lurches in my stomach became exciting, the twists and turns exhilerating. Suddenly I was laughing and not afraid at all. I was enjoying myself. I didn't want the slide to end. I actually said whee. And then I finished and wanted to get right back on again.
This is probably really boring for anyone who isn't me. But in life you generally grow up subtly, imperceptibly. You realise that it's been a few months since you found anything growing in your coffee mug. You wonder when you started being able to dispose of spiders. You gradually care less and less about what people think about you, to the point where you can write an obtuse and barely-read blog and not really worry because you do it for yourself. There aren't many moments where you level up, in an instant. I was lucky to have one. On a waterslide. With my arse squeaking against a dinghy.
After that I almost completely stopped being a chicken, at least about water-related things, and even went on the biggest ride in the park, which goes vertical and causes gravity to eat your stomach. It was a pretty amazing change for someone who's been crap with water their whole life. I even wanted to go back to Nagashima the following week. Everyone else did too. Highly recommended.
Many thanks to Nick and Alyssa for not laughing at my stupid face and brain. Many thanks to the lovely staff member who helped me when I got stuck on a wet mat (don't ask). Many thanks to Nagashima Spaland in general for being great and fun and making me feel warm fuzzy things inside.
Many not-thanks to the one shitty slide I didn't enjoy after my epiphany, not because it was scary but because it was clearly old, poorly-maintained, bumpy and gave me big old bruises on my elbows. Fuck you, slide.
This fucker.
No comments:
Post a Comment