Waterskiing

Waterskiing

“Work without fun is like peanut butter without jelly.”
Jase Robertson

Years ago, my study group with Matt, Marc, Kevin and me met at Matt’s beach house in Galveston, Texas, for our annual three days of talking about business, life and family. We’ve been doing this for around a quarter of a century, so we’ve gotten pretty good at it. We rotate hosting each year, and most of the time we end up in the city where each of us lives, Houston, Cleveland, Madison or Los Angeles.

Sometimes the agenda is packed, and sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes we have guests, but the core of the meeting is the four of us hanging out, learning from each other, and having fun.

There is always plenty of downtime built in, and our trip to Matt’s house on Galveston Bay that year was no exception. We went out in Matt’s boat every day, and on this particular day, we crossed the bay to waterski in the ship channel. The channel is over five-hundred feet wide and allows the freighters to glide smoothly from the Gulf to Houston and back, from around the world.

The channel is ideal for waterskiing, as there is virtually no wake and no current. We each took our turns out on the water, with little competition from other boats. We were the only ones there, except for the occasional massive freighter that would slowly come by like some gigantic floating building.

As we made our way back to the house, Matt asked if anyone wanted to ski in the bay. I said yes and jumped in. The water is a lot rougher in the bay than in the channel, so I skied for about ten minutes, and that was plenty. When I had enough, I let go of the rope and they began to circle back to pick me up. I floated with my skis in front of me and just relaxed in the water.

Suddenly, I felt the shock of my life, electrocuted from just above my knees to just below my shoulders. I never saw the jellyfish, but boy, I felt him!

Kevin, trying to comfort me from the boat, yelled,” You’re gonna die!” That happened to be the punchline of a colorful joke told earlier in the day. Matt had some Benadryl, which he gave me when I crawled back into the boat. I was covered in wide, swollen swatches of bright red. Kevin offered a holistic remedy that everyone carries with them, which I declined. Marc was sympathetic, as he also had been injured earlier in the channel. No detail here either. Expressing my surprise at being stung, Matt casually observed that there were lots of jellyfish in the bay.

All in all, it was just a typical day with my pals from the study group, and we share dozens of memories like this one. Let me give a shout out to Marc here, “Risk management!”

When we got back to the house, I called home to tell my wife about my experience, and our then-ten-year-old son John answered the phone. When I told him I had been stung, he replied, sulking, “Lucky!” with a feeling that he had missed out.

We went out for dinner that night to a t-shirt and shorts seafood restaurant. At one point, the owner came over to our table, as we were the only ones there, and asked how we were enjoying our food. I said it was good, but that I must be having some kind of reaction, and pulled up my shirt to show him, asking if he might comp our meals. Having lived on Galveston Bay for forty years, he laughed it off.

Well, boys will be boys, and so will men. What a great day, and I did feel very lucky too!