Part Two - The epic conclusion

Life is short . . . Question everything! Break some rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret any loving thing that made you smile. 

Think of the most thrilling activity you’ve ever done.  Got it?  Hopefully it’s of the magnitude of sky diving, base jumping, or bungee jumping.  If it’s just a roller coaster, that will suffice as well.  Now combine that with the most moronic thing you’ve ever done.  Sprinkle in some negligence, inebriation, and spontaneity.  What do you get?  My inaugural canal swim.

I already painted the picture of what led up to this epic event.  I hope I did a good job depicting that this was just like any other ordinary night in the life of Kim.  Nothing was too ornate, the girls and I were just having a good time.

I might have forgot to mention that it was absolutely pouring rain.  I decided to change last minute before I went out to a flowy urban tanktop and some capri leggings.  All the shoes that I brought were unsuitable for rain so I donned my ancient rainbow flip flops not caring about their fate.  Or so I thought-

I’m usually a pretty stable walker, but in the beginning of the night I wiped out pretty hard on the marble.  You thought I would have learned a lesson from Kathy, our professor who continuously warned us about flip flops and marble.  Hey, I like to skin my  knees (and bruise my tailbone) to learn.

Let’s cut to the main event.  My feet were filthy.  The rain barely cleansed the city this time, let alone my hooves.  Caroline, Christa, and I traipsed quite a distance that night so inevitably, my feet were covered in filth.  I continuously attempted to cleanse them in public fountains along the way (which I recently learned was illegal) but that never did the trick.  My moronic train of thought, naturally, was to wash them in the canal.  Karma baby.  I was all talk the other day about how I wanted to cannonball into the canal.  Well, you get what you ask for.  I went for my swim.

With my lovely fresh bread bag in tow, the two girls and I were merrily on our way home (about a block away.)  It was there were I saw these enticing steps calling my name.  During the day, gondolas are frequently docked there and I see a plethora of people don and doff the boats with ease.  These steps are all over the city.  Most plunge into the water with quite depth since the city is sinking.  

So there I went with my bread.  Step one, step two, step three.  Oh my!  The tide was so low!  Why not keep going?  So I did.  Within half a heartbeat, my feet slipped out from in front of me.  I sort of wish it was on video because the fall was textbook.  I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head but I went straight into the drink.  The algae on those buggers is slippery!  Most algae is visible but this was most certainly not.  I emerged to my two dear friends staring, pointing, and cackling with glee.  As I tried to claw my way out, I couldn’t.  The steps were too slippery.  I sank further into the formerly charismatic water only to beseeched by the seaweed beneath.  It encapsulated my shoes and here’s where the sheer panic set it.  Total lagoon creature status, I was going under.

With my bread now littering the scene, Caroline and Christa snapped back to reality.  Caroline in a desperate attempt to help me out, slips half way in.  Thank goodness for Christa’s ungodly long limbs, she was able to pull us back to safety.  I lay there for a moment, somewhere in between hysteria and shock to collect myself.

I was sporting my red Kate Spade cross-body that I have been for most of the trip.  I picked it up at Woodbury with Sam for super cheap and figured it would be a great bag to knock around.  Yes, it was great for that purpose, but in addition, it’s waterproof!  Thank goodness for good quality leather!  Christa reached in to find my passport, blackberry, and wallet untouched by the water.  

After all the blood infection rumors, reality started to set in.  The rain started to come down as we all sat and cackled while trying to wrap our heads around what just happened.  I think I was the first to realize it.  I was mortified.  Luckily, I kept my mouth shut during my swim and didn’t ingest anything, but I started sprinting and shrieking down the alleyway.  I like to think of myself as a very colorful and vibrant person, but shrieking is not a part of my repertoire.  Regardless, I sprinted.  I felt like Fred Flintstone pounding on the cobble stones mixed with a wet dog.  I reached the apartment, now nearing the four or five o’clock hour.  I immediately took off my pants and shirt and hopped in the shower.  I scrubbed with passion.  I got out, and did it again.  I went upstairs - and showered again.

I was officially swamp thing, lagoon creature.

After posting some non-sense facebook statuses and cleaning the algae out of my big toe, I tuckered myself out and went to sleep.  My final was 3 hours later in the morning but this life experience was far more important and significant than knowing the symbolic history of the iconic S. Marc’s lion.  

I wouldn’t change any of this for the world.  Venice has stolen Christa’s necklace, my flip flops, a small part of my dignity, and my heart.

Follow up interviews

We were dining the next day and I asked the waiter if he had ever swam in the canal.  He immediately recognized us and asked if we were in Santa Margharita the night before.  Yes, that was us.  Great -  

I can’t wait to get back to NY so I can hide, but unfortunately that’s becoming harder and harder to do.  Anyway, he said when Italy won the world cup in 96, he plunged in along with a many others.  He also said that in the winter time, the floods are awful.  You can’t always have your high boots on so some feet get soggy and wet - no blood poisoning.  After those two reassurances, he offered to give me a more detailed examination if I would like - no thanks.

A second man, the cutie pie who sells our wine in a plastic bottle to us, “alla botte,” said you’re not a true Venetian until you take the plunge.  I was happy to hear this.  This guy was more our age and shares the same passions as we do - having fun.  He’s gone in about 5 or 6 times.  “You know, when you’re drunk.”  I haven’t seen any twenty-something mutant swamp creatures slinking around, so hopefully I’ll be OK.  Well, there is that hump I’m starting to form on my back and those webbed toes in development...

I’ll leave you with a closing vignette composed by myself, Carolina, and Christa after this all went down.

There once were three girls who along came a fire and with a lemon beside her took the shot of fire and drank their troubles away. They walked to the Italain stallions and the bar closed with their sasses and burned their eye lashes and washed their troubles away. The bambinos unfortunately wanted to stay. Piccolo Mundo was great fun but we magically met Nick the big jumbo. He whisked our problems away. We found some bread from a guy named Ned and carried it until he found his way. Upon our journey, Kim felt the need to wash her feet in the way. THE END…….. The rest is for you to spay. TOUCHÉ

I fell in the lagoon.