Plunging Under Water Essay

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11/3/14 Plunging Under Water On a cold fall morning, in Atlanta, Georgia, my family and I made the long, treacherous hike down to the rapids. I could hear the leaves and twigs crunching under my feet like stale Cheetos. I was little and had to keep telling myself that this trail leads somewhere. Of course when I was little everything seemed longer and worse than it really was. As we hopped in the raft, we realized our guide was as tired as a bear during hibernation because he was severely hung-over. Our raft hit rock after rock making it extremely hard to paddle. Little did I know this white water rafting trip could possibly end my family’s life. I could hear the rapids rushing as if it was a roaring lion. I was tense, holding on for dear life as we went down the small rapids at the earliest point to this horrible journey. In between we hit every rock because our guide’s judgment was impaired. It was clear he couldn’t steer around them. It felt like I was in a car and someone was slamming on the brakes every couple of minutes. I wanted to get out of the raft, but there wasn’t a possible exit at the time. I think at times I was crying and shaking in fear, maybe even hiding at the bottom of the raft. I was begging for this trip to be over, not knowing what was going to happen next. As we came up to the biggest rapid yet our guide misjudged the entrance and we landed on a huge rock. Then, the unthinkable happened: our raft started tipping. Our guide was stupid, he stood up and tipped me out of the raft. I felt like a fish being given a proper burial at sea, spiraling down into a toilet. My Mom got sucked into the toilet bowl too and I was terrified for both of us. Before I knew it my mom, dad and I were all in the water trying to fight for our lives. I really wanted to start singing the Finding Nemo song “Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming!

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