Here's the problem. David had just watched the horror movie, What Lies Beneath. I am not a glutton for punishment; therefore, I do not watch scary movies. Ever since running out of the theatre while watching The Sixth Sense (sorry Steve), I can't even watch a commercial for a scary movie without peeing my pants. (I know that creepy girl is still under my bed. Every time I get up in the middle of the night - and that's often these days - she and her ankle-grabbing ways are top of mind.) Bottom line - I had not seen the movie, but David had told me about it anyway.
He had described the eerie ghost woman, dressed in white, floating in the water. And here we were, at the edge of the platform, poised to jump into a murky, black lake.
We had established a rule: do not think about the freaky ghost lady. Just relax and enjoy the cool water. Do not mention anything scary at all. This cool-down ritual was essential to our nocturnal comfort. The dip had to be done. Don't screw it up!
So we counted, "One, two, three!" and jumped in together. For about 13 seconds, we exchanged pleasantries.
"This feels so good!"
"What a great idea we had!"
"I needed this!"
Then, a shift in the atmosphere. I looked at David and he looked at me. Our eyes became wider, and a look of dread descended on both our faces. Suddenly, we darted to the ladder, screaming and splashing. We both grabbed the bottom rung and attempted to hoist our panicking, shrieking selves up the narrow ladder at the same time. Finally we fell, gasping and laughing, onto the houseboat platform.
What a bunch of pansies!
Meili & David, Lake Powell, August 2000