This morning (and by morning I mean afternoon), I was greeted at the door by an unassuming package. It was flat, small and from Arkansas. In it was a blue CD filled with pictures of my recent trip to Panama. While looking through the photos, I noticed something strange about them that I am going to share with you now.
Let's start at the end of the journey. We're tired, we're wet and we're not sure yet if we're going to make it. The guides are visibly concerned as they examine the next rapid. It has changed since the last time they navigated this section of river. And by changed, I mean got fucking scarier. My dad, the guy in white, an expert on a river, is also worried, but ready to steer across the treacherous rocks (which roll along with us as we slide across the tops of them). His wife has perfected the art of, "GET DOWN!" which is a game we like to play with the captain. My brother is hiding against the bottom of the boat, completely invisible in most of the photos. And what am I doing? I'm perched on the edge, looking straight at the camera, posing with my oar. Good job, me. Way to contribute to everyone's survival.
Okay, so let's go back in time a little bit. Huh. Yup. Look at the determination on their faces. They are going to fight the rapids and live to tell the tale. I am grinning like a moron
And this holds true for on an entire roll of film. Even here: just because you can't see me, what with all the water we're under, doesn't mean I'm not still mugging. If you value your life, please don't invite a camera crew along with us on the dangerous river journey. Thank you.
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