I Got Into a Fight With a Sea Urchin

Jamaica was amazing! Seriously. Unbelievably amazing. I’ve been back a week today and I’m still mourning the loss of the beautiful water, vivacious people, and endless relaxation.

Every vacation has it’s set backs though. Not everything in life can be 100% perfect, although my time in Jamaica came very close. So, of course, I had to have a minor imperfect moment on the trip.

I got into a fight with a sea urchin, and the sea urchin won. He beat the snot out of me (literally, but we’ll get to that in a minute). Over a week later and I am still limping around.

So here’s the story.

Stephen and I decided to go kayaking. Jamaicans have a “no-worries, mon” attitude so the only advice we had was “wear a life jacket and don’t turn sideways in the waves.” So we adopted that mentality, put on a life jacket, and paddled out to sea.

We paddled around until the tide started picking up and the waves got bigger and bigger so we decided to head back to the beach. Let me preface this by saying, we listened and never turned our boat sideways. It didn’t matter though because the wave was so big it literally took us out of the boat and into the ocean.

The water near our beach was mostly coral, so the first thing I did after falling out of the boat was step on my little sea urchin friend. I tell you what. I have broken my tailbone three times, my pinkie toe and my wrist. I have had my appendix removed, a cyst on my ovary, and watched From Justin to Kelly. None of this compares to the pain I felt after stepping on the sea urchin.

So at this point, I panic. I can’t stand up. The waves are huge, we can’t get in the boat and each one is taking us further and further away from our beach and closer to another one. We have no idea who lives at this beach, all we know is there is a big solid wall between the beach at our resort and the beach we are about to get thrown up on to so we probably shouldn’t go there. And I lose my mind. There really is no better definition for the level of panic I go into. I start screaming, hyperventilating, crying hysterically. I really think we are about to die because the waves from the tide are just pelting us over and over. My foot is at a level of pain where I would rather just cut it off at this point. It’s ugly.

Finally, our lifeguards pay attention and come rescue us in a kayak…? Which is what we fell out of in the first place. To this day, I still don’t understand that logic. But by this point the people from the mystery beach have come out and are waving the lifeguards from our resort over. So I get carried out of the water (and I thank god for every minute I went to the gym and every calorie I skipped so this is not as embarrassing as it could be) and taken to the scary mystery beach. Stephen can walk so he gets out fine.

Waiting for us is a butler in a bow tie, a maid, a scary looking dude in boots, another scary dude in boots who never comes over but just watches the ocean, and our lifeguards from the resort.

I keep repeating “I cut my foot, I cut my foot” over and over again like a broken record, because at this point that’s what I thought I had done. So they lift my foot to take a look and all make the same terrible face.

The collective face causes me to start crying hysterically again. They bring me a big bucket of ammonia (which I desperately want to jokingly ask if they peed in, but stop myself because they just saved my life) and I have to sit there awkwardly soaking my feet until a car from our resort gets permission from wherever we are to come pick me up to take me to the doctor.

When we finally walk through the house connected to the mystery beach, we realize it is a mini Playboy mansion. Seriously. Old white guy in an infinity pool, lovely ladies with him, butlers in bowties and tuxedos.. We have discovered the Jamaican Playboy Mansion. I’m not sure if that’s really what it is, but if it’s not I will be extremely surprised and need some solid proof that it isn’t.

So after this incredibly long story, here is my advice to all of my fellow travelers: if you’re going to Jamaica (or anywhere with water for that matter) buy some dang water shoes before you go kayaking! Your feet will thank you.

What’s the scariest thing that has ever happened to you while traveling?