Lesson: scared cats don’t do well at waterparks.

Awkward: the word “pussy.”  I understand that it’s okay to use this word in reference to
a cat.  I know that’s it’s less okay to use this word in reference to anatomy.  But what
about the expression, “you’re a pussy?”  In this case, are we comparing whimp-ism to
scared cats? Or are we creating a correlation between fear and vaginas?  I have no idea.
Just know that when I say that I’m a pussy, I mean it in the most cat-like of ways.

I’m a pussy.  And so is my brother. But the two of us, along with my parents, spent this
past weekend in the Bahamas. Yes, the feeling you’re experiencing is jealousy. We stayed
in Nassau for my Dad’s Econ conference, and while he was off listening to presentations
on privatization or enterprise or whatever the heck the conference was about, the rest of
us went to Atlantis.

(That’s Nick.)

Sadly, I don’t mean the actual lost city under the sea, but I do mean the next best thing–
Atlantis resort on Paradise Island.  While I was initially prone to roll my eyes and call it
a “tourist trap,” the place won me over.  There’s a waterslide that entails riding through
a transparent tube as sharks swim all around you.  How could that not win me over?
If you think a pussy would stay away from things like carnivorous predators, think
again.  Shark tanks are nothing.  Real pussies (meow) are scared of normal things, like
plane turbulence and four-lane interstates–or just your typical waterslide.  My brother
and I refused to participate in any ride that we couldn’t be in an inner tube for, and we
thought that would solve all our scary-slide fears.  My brother is also adamantly against
steep drops, so when we spotted a fun-looking twisty slide with gentle turns, we thought
we’d climb up the stairs of the “Tower of Power” to get it to it.

That was our first mistake.  Clearly something named the “Tower of Power” would not
cater to the faint of heart.  Then, second mistake, we climbed about twelve flights of
stairs to get to the tallest slide.  How could something half-a-mile above sea level not
have a huge drop?  It isn’t until the two of us are sitting in position at the top of the slide
and looking down that we realize something: this is the wrong slide.  Also: we are going
to die.  But before we can do anything, we’re pushed over the edge for what honestly
seems like our imminent death.

I don’t know if I’ve screamed more in my life.  I mostly shrieked while my brother
shouted out, “I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS!”  But when we finally came to a halt at the
end (alive!), I burst out laughing.  I’d do it again.  Nick, on the other hand, was less than
pleased.

Being a pussy can suck, and definitely makes you look like the dork among suave thrill-
ride aficionados.  But if I had been such a suave thrill-ride aficionado that day, I
wouldn’t have experienced the triumph that comes after believing I’d narrowly escaped
my near-certain death.  Instead, I would have shrugged at just another day in the (not)
lost city under the sea.  So, you see, even being a pussy has its perks sometimes.  Meow.