It's a bit past 6:00 PM, my third day in Belize.
Rain is pounding on the tin roof above my head,
getting louder and louder.
It cancels out any other sound,
except for the rumble and crack of the thunder.
The darkness outside the window momentarily turns to daylight.
Just when you thought it couldn't come down harder,
you find out you were wrong.
I've been waiting for this.
I love it.
It probably sounds crazy to most other people,
but torrential downpours and thunder storms
are some of my favorite things.
are some of my favorite things.
(Breaks into The Sound of Music... almost)
It's let up a bit now,
but it's still coming down.
Other sounds can be heard again.
Thunder cracks in the distance.
It scares some people,
but not me.
I'm left in awe,
with a smile on my face.
I haven't done much since I've arrived.
I've mostly been trying to settle-in and relax a bit.
Oh,
and recover...
and recover...
Two days before I flew,
I went Go-Karting with my family -
trying to squeeze in some activities together before I left.
I was maybe a third of the way through my second lap on the track,
and my kart decides that it's had enough.
It stops.
Perfect.
It's not a big deal,
I just follow the directions they gave for just this type of situation:
Stay in your kart and wave your hands.
A staff person will come assist you.
I proceed to wave and wait.
It feels like it's taking them forever.
I want to keep racing,
despite the wimpy motor my kart has...
the now dead motor.
I keep waiting.
Seriously, are they coming?
Do they see-
WHAM!!
My kart and my body are violently thrust forward.
Suddenly my kart has moved from the left side of the track.
It's now parked on an angle,
It's now parked on an angle,
across the right lane.
My head throttles in my helmet,
like a baby's toy rattle,
and instantly I'm overwhelmed with emotion.
My body wants to start bawling,
but I don't understand why.
I don't want to cry.
My fail safe setting is to assess the situation,
get control,
fix what I can,
and don't waste time with what I can't.
Logical.
(Can you tell why I like Sherlock?)
I wanted to do that,
and I was really trying.
What I found more frustrating than actually being hit
was that I wasn't in control of my own body.
I didn't see the kart coming, as I was hit from behind.
That's a good thing,
since I wasn't tensed up.
A staff person drove up in a kart,
and when he said the track was clear,
I got out of my kart.
My head still reeling,
ready to burst into uncontrollable tears at any moment,
I try my very best to maintain my composure.
The staff person offers to drive me back in his two-seater kart.
"No, I just need to sit."
There's a short cement wall on the outside of the two lane track.
I sit on that,
my legs on the safe side.
A few minutes later,
the staff person comes back with a green plastic chair,
and places it on the ground that banks downward beside the track.
A bit precarious.
I feel so out of place,
being face-to-face with every kart that goes by.
What must they be thinking?
Looking down, or anywhere else,
doesn't feel any more normal.
The staff person is still there,
so I tell him that I want to go back now.
He gives me the option of driving myself back,
and I accept.
Get control.
He suggests that I drive his kart back,
as it's more comfortable.
"Okay, sure."
I quickly regret it.
The steering on his kart is sloppy, all over the place.
I dread karts passing me,
as I'm afraid of inadvertently steering into them.
I nearly do.
Another accident in the making.
The owner tries to appease me,
as I sit parked in the pit.
As friendly as he can be,
he hands me a couple free VIP tickets,
and talks about how this really isn't that big a deal...
I don't actually know what he's saying.
I'm not really listening.
I know what he's doing, though.
Trying to be as nice as possible,
downplaying what happened.
"You're okay, right?"
A statement, more than a question.
Maybe I'm cynical,
but this time I'm right.
"I just want to go."
I tell my family,
and hesitantly everyone talks to each other,
not knowing what to do next.
Earlier, going out for sushi had been suggested.
I reassure them that I still want to do that.
I need the distraction.
As I walk,
I have a bit of a limp.
My inner right thigh is sore,
tender to the touch.
It hurts a bit to walk, but it's not too bad.
I've experienced pain way worse than this.
I should probably go to the hospital,
but I don't.
Instead, I pop a few Aspirin.
Stubborn,
in control,
and a bit stupid.
in control,
and a bit stupid.
A bunch of bruises show up over the next few days,
the one on my thigh being the biggest and prettiest.
A nice, deep purple.
That's my story of woe.
Just so you know,
I did get my injuries checked out the next day.
Nothing serious.
To quote the Black Knight,
"'Tis but a scratch."
