A Nice Fling is Hard to Find

Still Monday, 5:00 P.M.

So, I’m in the hospital.

Nice, huh?

Don’t worry, it’s nothing major. 

Really.

Let me start at the beginning.

When we arrived, we checked into our chalet, which was much nicer than the hostel in Paris. We’re four per room, each room holding just two bunk beds. Somehow Becca and I got stuck with the Pennies. The good news is that each room has its own small bathroom. I mean, really small. The shower is—I’m not kidding—on top of the toilet. I made Becca take a picture.

Anyway, we put our stuff away, ate croissants and cheese (the amount of cheese in this country is out of control. I’ve only been here a few days and I’ve already ingested more than my body weight. If I’m not careful I’m going to develop a lactose intolerance), put on our bathing suits, and got picked up by the white-water rafting shuttle busses.

Before we were placed onto said rapids, we divided ourselves into small groups. Ours was Harold, the Pennies, Becca, Tommy, Pierre (!!!), the rafting guide, and me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but Pierre and Abby were clearly having some sort of lovers’ quarrel because Abby kept glaring our way. Anyway, we were all fitted with red helmets and yellow life jackets and handed paddles. I tightened my equipment, scooted over to the edge, made my knuckles turn white from gripping my paddle – and practically had a heart attack when a glistening Pierre took the spot beside me.

The little hairs on his calves were fully touching my (hairless) legs. “Ready?” he asked.

Terrified.

I took a deep breath of the fresh mountain hair and tried to calm myself. Then I tried to imprint the stunning scenery in my brain. How could anything bad happen here? The mountains were lush and green and in the distance capped with white. Besides, if rafting was actually dangerous, they wouldn’t let unsuspecting tourists do it, would they? Especially Americans. Hello. We sue.  

Finally we began rafting. Basically you paddle down the river until you hit the rapids, then you hold on for dear life. The first set of rapids weren’t bad. They were a class two. We paddled, we stopped paddling, we held on, the water splashed in our faces…but we all made it.

The second one was a class four. Since one of the other boats was only a minute ahead of us, we could see them in the distance. They went over the rapids and—BAM! Rori-Ann and Britney went over the side. Max and Kristin took pictures.

And then it was our turn. We paddled and paddled and hold on, hold on to the yellow rope, and then we were zooming—

The next thing I knew I was flying headfirst out of the boat and into the rocky water.

My life flashed before my eyes. My dog, Becca, my mother. My mother who was going to kill me if the rocks didn’t. Tommy.

Tommy?

Once I hit the subzero water, and realized that I was still alive, I caught my breath and spotted the panicked look on Becca’s face. Then I saw that Tommy was hanging out of the raft, trying to grab on to me. The guide was yelling at him in both French and English to sit down, and motioning for me to swim to a shallower area.

“I’m okay!” I sang out.  And I was. Cold, but fine.

But is my fall responsible for my hospital visit?

Nope.

The guide hoisted me back into the raft.

“Are you all right?” Becca and Tommy asked simultaneously.

I nodded yes, my teeth chattering. 

“Did zat hurt?” he asked, quickly warming me up by wrapping his arm around me.

“A little,” I said, hoping he would not move his arm. EVER.

“You’re shivering,” he said, rubbing my shoulders.

“Cold in there.”

“Yes, but we will be chaud in hot springs next.”

“Right,” I said. That was the next stop for today. I didn’t know exactly what hot springs were, but I was guessing they were like some sort of natural hot tub. Hot tubbing with Pierre? Sounded good to me.

When we were done, we unsnapped our jackets, took off our helmets, picked up our paddles, and walked back to the boathouse. Becca was beside me, red cheeked and laughing, when she clucked her tongue. “Penny with a Y hooked up with my brother on Bastille Day and on the train. How gross is that?”

And that’s when the paddle slipped out of my hand, landed on my foot and sent me to the hospital.

When it first landed, I howled in pain.

Joanna ran over.

“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “This happens all the time.”

She crouched in front of me. “I think we need to go to the hospital,” she said.

“No!” I whined. “It’s my middle toe. There’s nothing they can do. Trust me, I’ve broken it twice already.”

“Maybe,” Joanna said. “But we’re legally responsible to get it checked out. I can’t have your parents suing me.”

“They won’t! I promise!” If they’ll blame anyone, it’ll be me. “I’m sure I’ll feel much better once I soak my foot in the hot springs.”

“No way,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “You guys go on ahead to the springs. We’ll see you back on the lodge.”

The shuttle bus dropped us off. Us being me and Joanna.

No hot springs for me. And no Pierre either. I convinced him that the rest of the group would need his translation skills more than I would. This was humiliating enough without him being there.

So now Joanna and I are sitting on plastic chairs in the waiting room. My foot is shoeless and resting on the seat beside me. Two of my toes are bright blue. It’s not pretty.

“Poor you,” she says.

“C’est la vie,” I say, with a sigh. I’m used to it.