Please Just Don't Pee on my Pants

The trials, tribulations and successes of a teacher on her own journey towads independence.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Death Cove Beach

Death Cove Beach

So yes, the two families did eventually arrive in San Diego, CA. Before even checking into their hotel they decided to go down to the beach. Upon arriving the loaf of bread they had planned on using for PBJ that day fell on the ground into sand… 10 second rule applied… sand sandwiches were interesting. They had a certain grainy texture.
After feeding the children a half way decent but interesting meal the crew went on search for the beach that Terri thought she remembered. After climbing rocks along the coast for about a mile she decided the beach had been moved. Not that we were in the wrong area, but that specifically someone had moved the beach of her childhood. The two happy families did finally stumble onto a Cove type beach and the kids were excited, climbed and jumped down from the rocks and into the water before we knew what was even going on. By the time we got down to the sand it was obvious that Joe was in dangerous waters, close to rocks and big waves. The three little boys were being sucked out by the current. Franz grabbed one of the younger boys and threw him out of the water while I went after the other 2 younger boys and Terri went after Joe. With the two little boys clinging to my legs I was struggling myself when Terri grabbed on to me for her own safety. Somehow she had reached Joe and had his hand… and there I was like a train ready to drown. We all escaped death that day – Lord only knows how. Upon getting back on the sand Joe, being autistic, immediately took all his clothes off because he couldn’t stand the sensory input and puked. Yep threw up right there in the sand in front of all those big strong surfers who didn’t help us a bit, didn’t offer a hand, nothing. Assholes.

Now that I look back on the complete situation I realize that there were no surfers in the water. They knew darn well that water wasn’t safe, but gave us no warning it. Now it feels like they were thinking “This is gonna be good; let’s just watch and see how this goes down.” I have no respect for those surfers who stood around and watched as two fully capable but struggling women tried to save their seven kids. Not one of them offered a hand, not one of them went near the water to pull someone out. How can they honestly live with themselves?

After walking/hiking the mile back to the car with 7 terrified children, one naked; we loaded up the van and decided that we had experienced enough of Death Cove Beach and were heading to the hotel where at least the water was a bit less threatening.

All just part of the flow of life.


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