Walking on Water
As a curious child, locked inside an insane adult woman, I've been known to take risks. What I call curiosity, you might call criminal. My “dare” gene is strong. Located close to my “avoid rules” gene, my peculiar DNA has afforded me spectacular adventures all over the world, one-off excursions into what the hell was I thinking? But I always look back on my escapades in wonderment with unqualified joy, because I did crazy things, and the memory of most of them makes me smile and that's probably a bit why I keep doing crazy things. That, and as a writer, I create my own stories, but thus far, they are all true. Fiction would be boring compared to my real life.
Like the early morning stroll along the ocean's edge in Cancun. Yes, let's look at that affair in Mexico.
I do my best unbalanced work in foreign countries, oblivious to the dangers of being a dumb American caught outside of America. Doing something stupid wasn't at all foreign to me, not in Russia, or Africa, Malta, Amsterdam … the list is long, because I worked with a British film crew or as an entertainer on cruise ship crew for a couple of decades and I've been blessed to see the world. I never considered myself a “tourist”, more a “traveler” or an “explorer”, and wherever possible, I got off on my own and, well, had a look-see around. That's where I managed to make problems, or occasionally amazing experiences I would've otherwise missed. I might be a gambler.
In Cancun, located on the southeastern edge of Mexico on a peninsula, the sun rises an hour earlier than in the States. It's a smaller strip of land along all the resorts by the sea and there's a point out yonder, an ending. You can see it when walking along the coastline, how it has a tip, and then vast open sea ahead. Endings often beckon me. I like to go right up to the very end, just to see what's beyond.
Outside my resort room right by the ocean were avocado and mango trees. A postcard scene of green and fruited trees, big boulders, then water. Right there, unimaginable beauty. The couple next door had had wild sex the night before with wide open patio doors and no curtains. They wanted people to see and hear them. It was weird when I went out to walk in the dark and saw them in the brightly lit room, going hard at it, the woman on top. Seeing porn in person is awkward, at least for me. I guess swingers or other people might find that exciting. I did not. But yes, I looked. It was hard to look away. This couple was doing kinky sex.
The next morning, at 5 a.m. when I went for my morning stroll, their curtains were closed and they were quiet. Everything was quiet. The sunrise glowed stunningly. I was all alone, had the whole peninsula ahead of me all to myself. I decided to walk the whole way and see what was down at the end, maybe a couple miles away. Bliss time for me, any early-morning ocean promenade, before breakfast, before the rest of the film crew got up and got busy.
See? There's nothing at all wrong with that program. I wasn't looking for trouble. It just ends up that way without my planning for perturbation. Or porn, as the case may be.
I wore a simple cotton red and white striped sundress with a T-back, a very comfortable little number, no underwear or anything else, bare feet and a happy face. The ocean is my happy place. All was well. I walked. The ocean was lapping to my left at my ankles. I'd step into the surf once and awhile to look at a shiny shell or wet my feet.
About a mile down the beach, I saw a sign to the right, an enormous wooden board sign posted on poles, in many languages: DO NOT PASS, essentially the message. Do not go beyond this point. It was in English too, so it's obvious what the sign meant. Besides, it was a very big sign, covering a wide swath of sand. Hard to miss. Actually, impossible not to see … IF you were looking that way....
That's when I formulated my excuse: I wasn't looking that way. So mesmerized by the beautiful azure waters, I'd only looked left, and somehow missed the giant building-sized sign. Why? Because the end point was in the near distance, close enough to see that I could make it, and far enough to not be stopped by a silly sign when not a single human was awake or around. I wanted to go there and look, that was the plan all along, and I thought all this out in my head ahead of time, just in case someone caught me past the point of this annoying sign. But I saw it. Of course I saw it. I'd never admit it, but I saw it. The theme of my life: I saw it. Then I ignored it.
There's a chill, a little thrill, when I dismiss authority. That might originate from a harsh upbringing, or it might be a factory-installed feature, I don't know. Maybe a bit of both. Also, there's an important part of me that makes a plan and means to carry it through. Why couldn't I just go look around at the end of the beach? Nothing was there.
I kept walking.
As I got closer to the end, the water color changed. It couldn't have been more beautiful. Caribbean waters are known for their colors, more stunning than anywhere in the world, except the Mediterranean Sea. What had been an astonishingly gorgeous turquoise/azure sea, now turning more verdant and clear, a green I've never seen. It took me a minute to realize that the sea bottom was crystal clear. No shells, no seaweed, nothing. Pure water and raked sand, and that's what changed the water color.
But that wasn't natural. Someone was sweeping or clearing the ocean floor there. It was charming to see and I couldn't imagine why anyone would do that, but I've never seen ocean shore look like that.
Eventually, I came to the tip … a point where there was only water all around me, my destination from way back at the resort. This was it. The end. But wait! Off to my right was something very interesting, extraordinary in size and beauty, a compound of some sort, no signage, no people, a gigantic place, so pretty and pristine. What was this? A monastery? A property belonging to who or what? There was water between me and this place, then a big ridge, like a dune, but built intentionally to hide and guard whatever this was. Wow! I got curious. The seawater on all sides was swept free from debris. That gorgeous color, greenish/blue hue was also surrounding this palace. My imagination ran wild.
I had to know. I'd come so far. I didn't see anybody, so maybe a few more steps the wrong way wouldn't be noticed. I started to walk up the sand towards this stunning place to look closer and see what it was.
Then I saw them. Sleeping guards, two of them, leaning back in chairs on a sweeping veranda, sound asleep, with guns across their chests. GUNS! They were holding guns. Rifles strapped around their chests, but they were asleep!
Every molecule of me woke the fuck up and screamed at me to get out of there. My curiosity killed in a millisecond. I didn't know what this place was, but obviously, I wasn't going to know either. Making it back to the beach edge and back to my resort room was more important in that moment. If these guards woke up and saw me, then what? I didn't want to think about it. Just GO!
It wasn't quite dawn yet. The sun had only started peeking and the moon was still hanging high, when a motorboat decided to roar by. From out of nowhere, it came fast and loud, and was headed to where I was standing. I'd already looked “out yonder” at what I wanted to see, endless waves of wonderment, and now this boat ruined it for me.
The motor noise woke the sleeping guys with the guns.
They saw me. I saw them see me.
Pivoting back, I knew instinctively not to run or stare or do anything super stupid, since I'd already accomplished super stupid anyway when I passed that sign that said NO. Don't GO!
My pulse was racing, but my pacing stayed normal. I turned and walked and this time, using the same pretense that I'd imagined earlier, I looked only to the right, at the water, and dared not look back towards the mansion I'd seen. They wouldn't shoot me in the back, would they?
I'd done this in bars, I thought. I'd see a guy who I really didn't want to talk to, our eyes had met, I knew he knew that I saw him too, but I'd look away and not look back and pretend I never saw him. Yes, that's what ran through my dumb American brain. Don't look at them!
Many thoughts raced through my head, but primarily, I only wanted to get back past that Do Not Pass sign, so I could calm down.
I kept walking. But I could “feel” those guards nearby, an energy thing. I wouldn't look, I didn't need to look, I could really feel them and I couldn't have been more afraid. Just pretend, I kept telling myself … pretend you didn't see them or anything else and just walk without looking away from the water.
Balls of steel, I tell you. That, and a brain that checked out. I was all balls. Did I mention that these guys had GUNS?!!! Did I want to die on a beach in Cancun, Mexico? I did not.
Eventually, I saw the wooden board sign up ahead. It was getting closer. Maybe I would make it out alive from the tip of the peninsula where nobody was supposed to go.
Oddity got me again, I needed to know if I was safe. Dang curiosity could get me killed. I half-turned my head to the left to see the “energy” I kept feeling, and there they were … the two guards with guns … high on the sand ridge above me and not far behind me either. They had walked all this way a bit behind me, and followed me more than a mile. The looks on their faces were puzzling. They looked like they didn't know what to do. Quizzical. Perplexed as to what action to take. After all, they were caught sleeping and would have to answer as to how I sneaked by them. I believe that small fact, that they were asleep is the only thing that saved me. I really do. They didn't want to get in trouble anymore than I did.
Since I'd already turned to look at them, I instantly put on a superhero cloak of innocence and smiled wide, waved at them, and hollered Hola! A guiltless and happy “hello” in Spanish, should surely convince these men that I was some stupid girl on the beach and not a trespasser. Besides, I was near naked and a slender cute girl in a skimpy cotton dress and hadn't they enjoyed watching me walk all this way?
They looked surprised that I had greeted them, glanced at each other, and sort of waved back with an “hola”, relinquishing their need to arrest me or shoot me or acknowledge me any further. It was easy to see that they were confused by the whole situation and their faces were bewildered by what else to do.
Nothing. There was nothing else to do. They'd escorted me all the way to the big sign and once I went by it, I was legal and watched when they turned around and walked back. I kept walking, but could now breathe. I swear, I had held my breath for most of that mile. I was so scared. But I acted completely otherwise. Glad all the improvisation classes and acting skills finally paid off in a real-people situation, because none of those classes caught me any movie-starring roles, only a starring role on America's Most Wanted television show, as, you guessed it, a criminal!
By the time I made it back to the resort, all the guys were up and waiting for me. We went to breakfast and I shared my story. The director of our film crew called over a staff member and asked him what was at the end of the peninsula. “Why?” The attendant answered. “You cannot go there or film there.”
“Just curious,” the director said. “What's up there?”
“That is where the President of Mexico lives,” the man said. “Nobody has ever seen it. Nobody is allowed to go there.”
Everyone at the table laughed out loud. Except me. I turned pale and swallowed hard. Nearly fainted from the fright of what I had done.
“She did!” Someone said, and pointed at me. “Lori just walked up there, almost to the front door.”
Within minutes, most of the staff was at our table. They wanted to know everything. How did I do that? What did I see? What does the house look like? I was overwhelmed with questions from a group of people, overly impressed with my morning walk. How did the guards not see me or stop me?
I didn't tell them everything, just about the swept ocean bottom, how beautiful it all was, that the guards were sleeping, and that was enough.
I imagine it was like walking up to the front door of the White House or any palace of any president anywhere. We just cannot do that. But I did. I regretted not having a camera to be able to snap a quick shot. The remembering is nevertheless pristine for me. My daring leaves me astounded.
For days, people asked me about my adventure. Apparently, not having a camera was a saving grace. They would've had to arrest me. The guards could have shot me. That's what the resort owners said. Jail in Mexico is not a pleasant place. Nobody is allowed near the presidential palace and none of them had ever seen it. I got away with something big and everybody wanted to know about it.
I was in danger if I had known better, but fortunately I didn't know better and my innocence may have saved me.
I made a miracle in Mexico. Without sinking, I walked on water.
Just
Another Lori Story
