I went to see Avatar this afternoon with my adult boys and their funky and odd friends. It was a rainy afternoon and perfect for a movie and popcorn which I ate until I was sick. But Avatar was amazing, spectacular and I could have watched it again immediately. I loved it. Did you?

But a couple years ago I went to the beach on Labor Day and my experience that day was much different than today. I was intent on getting in a little sun and surf on that Labor Day weekend. I happily anticipated settling into my brightly striped beach chair, shoving my feet deep into the sand and losing myself in a novel.

As I drove over the bridge spanning the intercoastal waterway and glimpsed the Atlantic beyond, I found myself taking deep, relaxing breaths. It was still quite early in the morning; the sun had just peeked up over the horizon moments before. I parked my car on the beach and hopped out, putting on my baseball cap and applying generous quantities of sunscreen. I grabbed my sunglasses, refilled my insulated coffee mug from the thermos, kicked off my flip-flops and headed down the almost deserted stretch of sand for a walk.

The surf of the Atlantic was much too rough to find very many shells that were still intact but the hunt was what I enjoyed. I wandered lazily up the beach for a long while, searching for treasure and watching the antics of the sea birds as they cavorted with each other and searched for their breakfast. As I turned back to return to where I had parked, I spotted a starfish, lying just out of reach of the waves which had carried it ashore. The arms of the animal wriggled ever so slightly as it struggled to return to the sea. Gently, I dug into the sand underneath it so as not to touch it and possibly damage it, I carried it into the ocean. As the surf ebbed, I placed the starfish onto the ocean floor and watched as the surf returned, powerful and forceful, kicking the little guy back onto the beach. Repeating my efforts several more times, always with the same result, I finally gave up, concluding that perhaps, he had lived a full and complete life as a starfish and this was his final dance - with me!

I walked back to my car, somewhat subdued and introspective as I pondered the mysteries of life … and death. Even the death of a starfish. I got my beach chair and towel, cold water and more sunscreen, and, of course, my book. Dragging everything down to the surf’s edge, I situated myself precisely where I wanted to be and settled in my chair, relaxed and content.
Before long, the rhythm of the waves, the calling of the birds, the heat of the sun, lulled me into a hypnotic sleep. My head rolled back and rested awkwardly on the back of my chair and every so often, I’d startle awake, conscious of a kink forming in my neck and saliva drying on the side of my mouth, but too relaxed to care.

All at once though, I awoke in alarm and pain. A Frisbee floated nearby in the frothy surf. The water had crept up with the tide. My eyes, barely able to focus in the bright sunlight, spotted my water bottle floating near the Frisbee. As I slowly turned my head toward the voice speaking to me that belonged to the Frisbee, I squealed in pain. A jellyfish had arrived with the most recent wave and had, apparently, stung the living crap right out of me. I jumped up as quickly as I could but I hadn’t gotten my land legs yet and proceeded to fall right into the middle of all the tentacles of that fearsome creature. My book, forgotten, was tossed away in the surf.

“Ow, ow, ow…” was all I could manage as strong arms helped me to my feet.

“Come on, get away from here. That is a Portuguese Man-O-War jellyfish and he has some powerful venom,” said Frisbee voice, calmly but firmly. Looking at my arms and legs, I saw lots of tentacles still clinging to – and stinging – my skin.

“No shit! Damn that hurts! Ow, ow, ow,” I continued to say. Frisbee voice helped me further up the beach and away from the surf then motioned for a lifeguard. The lifeguard, hopped down off her perch and, pleased to finally be able to drive the little cart containing all manner of medical paraphernalia and lifesaving equipment, merrily arrived where I stood, as I continued repeating the highly intelligent phrase, “Ow, ow, ow!”

The calm and serenely deserted beach from early this morning was now jam-packed with people, all of whom seemed to be crowding around me, murmuring at the unfortunate situation I was in but gratified to find something interesting to break up their day.

“Hi, Rhonda,” said Frisbee voice to the lifeguard when she arrived, “This young lady has just been stung by a Man-O-War.”

“Hi, Garrett, how ya doin’? What are you doing here today? ” she asked with a flirtatious lilt to her voice as she jumped out of the cart.

Oh, this is just great, I thought to myself through clouds of pain. These two are trying to hook up right while I’m experiencing an almost fatal encounter with a creature from the sea.

“Well,” said Frisbee voice who had just been identified as someone named Garrett, “it was just such a gorgeous day today, I thought I’d take off and catch a few rays. I wouldn’t go near the water for the next couple weeks though with all those Man O’War coming ashore.”

“Yup,” said Rhonda Cutie Pie, “lots of tourists have been getting stung the last couple days.” She examined my arms, legs and feet which were swelling and becoming bright red. She straightened up and as she went to the cart to get a bottle of something she looked at Garrett coquettishly, “Would you like to go get a bite or something when I’m done here? It’ll be time for my lunch if Larry gets back on time to relieve me.”

I looked at the two of them crabbily, “Excuse me. Do you two think you could postpone your date setting until I’ve been taken care of, please? I happen to be in pain.”

I pretended to ignore the look Miss Cutie Pajamas sent to Garrett as she began spraying, willy-nilly, a strong smelling solution all over me.

“This will remove the tentacles and help take the sting out, ma’am,” she said, overly polite. As she sprayed the vinegar on, I could see the tentacles lifting from my skin. Garrett and Rhonda both worked to carefully pull them off, trying to avoid getting stung themselves.

“Phew! What is that stuff?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

“Vinegar and water,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “You’ll need to get ice on these welts as soon as possible and it would help if you took an antihistamine to help with any reaction to the toxins. I usually have some on hand to give to sting victims but, unfortunately, I’m all out,” she said with obvious insincerity.

“Hey, Rhonda!” someone in the crowd called out, “Did you tell her about the old-fashioned way to take care of jellyfish stings?” People began to snicker.

“And what’s that?” I asked.
Someone in the now large crowd said brightly, “Pee on it.”

Everybody laughed. “Better yet, I’ll pee on it for ya, baby,” someone said, a tad too enthusiastically. I looked up. A heavily tattooed man of about fifty years of age with a six-month pregnant belly on him, obviously from enjoying too many Budweisers like the one he was clutching in his hand at that moment, gave me the thumbs up. I smiled weakly and turned back to the lifeguard.

“Actually, that’s not the correct treatment for a Portuguese Man o-War sting,” I couldn’t tell if she was addressing me or conducting a mini lecture to the crowd of onlookers, but she actually sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Turning back to me she said, ”As I’ve already told you - ice packs, cortisone cream and an antihistamine are what you need immediately. You may need to see a doctor because of the number of stings you have. You’ve got a lot of toxins running around in your body.”

She was packing up her medical equipment, that is to say, her plastic spray bottle of vinegar, but turning her attention back to Garrett, she continued to flirt conspicuously and unabashedly.

Garrett said to me, “Looks like the ocean claimed some of your stuff.”
I looked out into the ocean foam to see my chair being tossed to and fro. My book had disintegrated into a soggy mess, pages floating forlornly here and there, flipping in and out of the surf. My water bottle and towel were nowhere to be seen. I was feeling pretty miserable. The pain seemed to come in waves, hurting intensely for a while and then subsiding a little. I stood still, just looking out into the ocean, lost as to my next move. The crowd had wandered off, the excitement of the moment gone, back to their blankets and picnic baskets.

I was feeling completely wretched by the time I arrived home. My relaxing Labor Day at the beach had turned into a nightmare. But one I will never forget!!!

Here’s a tip…go to the movies and stay away from the beach when the jellyfish are prevalent.