The Big One

by Jake Hamilton

Five minutes. We didn’t have that much more time to get there. It was Monday. The campers were all headed to their first activity period. I reminded my coworker, Jen, not to forget her keys, and she grabbed them as we rushed to the lake. When we got there, we threw our bags and towels down on the lifeguard stand, if it could even be called that. Painted a painful shade of yellow, and with “LIFEGUARDS ONLY” printed in large, red, block letters on the back, the wooden tower stood at the precipice of the bank, threatening to tip over into the water at any time.

“Looks like it’ll be a nice today,” Jen observed. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and it was already warm for a morning in late June. Unadulterated sunlight poured down, warming our skin. Indeed it would be.

A burst of activity up the path caught our attention. The campers were arriving. We watched as all forty of them stumbled out of the tree line, excitedly talking to one another. After everyone arrived, Jen and I started into our routine of introducing ourselves and telling everyone the rules. Finally, it was time for the swim tests.

To see which one of us would be getting in the water this week, Jen and I rock-paper-scissored for it. I lost. So, clown-red rescue tube in hand, I climbed down off the dock into the freezing cold water. To pass our swim test, the kids have to jump off a standing dock, swim about thirty feet parallel to the shore to a floating dock, touch it, and swim back. If they made it, they got a bright red bracelet that says “I Passed My Swim Test.” If not, well, then we gave their parents our condolences. Kidding. It was my job to swim alongside each pair and make sure they didn’t panic.

As it turns out, another group had signed up at the same time for fishing, and were doing so about fifty feet further down the shore from the floating dock. We had finished most of our swim tests when there was a commotion from the fishing group. At the time, I was trying to entice a rather pudgy swimmer to continue doing the test, while at the same time convincing him not to swallow all of the water in the lake.

A few minutes later, I heard someone call out my name. I turned to see one of my bosses standing about 15 feet away along side of the lifeguard stand. His mustache curled into the biggest grin I had ever seen him give. I then found out what all the commotion had been about. In his hands was the most massive fish I had ever seen. Being about the same size and weight as a small child, I was unnerved that this monster existed in the very same water that I, and many others, swam in.

Suddenly turning serious, he called out, “Catch,” as he lobbed this seemingly life sized replica of Moby Dick at me.

Shit. Stunned by this sudden turn of events, my brain froze on what to do. Time slowed down. Alas, I had no experiences to draw from, having never had a living creature thrown at my head before. Primitive instinct was, therefore, my only option. Fight or flight. A red lifeguard tube wasn’t much of a weapon. Had I been able to stand, I might’ve been able to use it as a bat and hit it back at my boss. It would serve him right. But the fact was that I was treading water and am completely awful at most sports left me with only one option: flight. At this point, the beast had passed the peak of its flight through the air and was preparing to make its decent. Its mouth open in as much shock as mine was. Only seconds from being sucker punched by a fish, I did the only thing that I could: I backed up. With all the grace of a drunk dolphin, I did the backstroke as fast as I could to get out of the way of this titan. I was able to move just out of its way before it hit the water with a painful, SPLAT. Worried that it would seek revenge for its misfortune, I pulled my legs into the fetal position. Meanwhile, on shore, my boss and the other campers were laughing so hard that there were probably some tears. Reluctantly, I agreed to finish up the last few swim tests before it was time for the kids to move on to their next activity. As I swam with last few campers, I realized that I had seen death on this day and vanquished it. I just hoped that it wouldn’t come back, feeling a little peckish.