Okay, confession time: I did not actually go down the Mayan Temple water slide, in the Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island. I availed myself of whatever excuses seemed plausible at the time. The line was too long, the sun was too bright, someone might swipe my lounge chair. The truth is -- and it pains me to admit this -- I was a little scared. Fine, I was a lot scared! My husband was not so reluctant, however, and he happily stood on line with the whooping 8-to 15-year olds.
He must have gone down the gigantic Mayan Temple Waterslide a dozen times each day, and with each slide down he seemed to regress to a younger age. During a break from this activity, I watched him wolf down a 15 dollar cheeseburger and realized I had unwittingly married a little boy. After hastily wiping his mouth on his forearm, he'd scramble back up the stairs of the slide, to rejoin the other kids on line. There were several other wives and mothers smiling benignly at the view of their children AND spouses waiting their turn to whoop down the slide into the pool. They provided for me a rare sense of community among fellow travelers.
I provided for them, however, a whole other sense. My thirsty baby was still nursing at the time, and our hotel room seemed so far away... One of my best friends came with us on this trip, and she draped a plethora of towels across me and my chair. This attempt at privacy backfired, because few things draw attention to oneself more than the sight of a giant, squirming lump of towels with a sweaty woman's head sticking out the top. I suppose that at this point I should be happy to have been able to provide some free poolside entertainment. Back then, though, I needed an oversized pina colada to recover from the unintended exposure. Go down the Mayan Temple Waterslide? No, nursing in public was quite enough adventure for me, thank you very much.