12 My First Time on Water Skis. Song: “Mony Mony”. Photo: Marquee Va Beach, Va.

Survival story #?:

When I was a teenager, on the weekends that I didn’t drive with my father to ski areas Mt Chalet, and then Brandywine, I often walked down to the pier on Lake St. Clair, Grosse Pointe, MI. One day I saw a friend from school named Bernie Allor, in his boat, at the GP Farms Pier. He showed up in a 14 foot Boston Whaler with a 100 (ONE HUNDRED!) horse power Mercury motor while I was probably playing tether ball, at the outdoor pool next to the little beach which had imported sand, or at the little concession stand. Some guys I knew from school were talking to Bernie in his boat, so I waded out to it. It turned out that Bernie was rounding up people who would volunteer to be “human cannonballs”…(Definition: To line up like depth charges, and catapult ourselves into the water from his boat, on his command.) That was the requirement to go out for a ride on Bernie’s boat.

My neighbor Mark Boerner, and I, plus two others from school crammed onto Bernie’s boat for “human cannon ball”, as ridiculously sounding as it was dangerous to do, especially in shallow water. None of us were injured, but before Bernie sped off, I asked him if I could try water skiing. He asked me if I had ever skied before. I said no, but reasoned that I snow ski well, and asked if it is anything like snow skiing. Bernie thought for a second, smiled, and said (just like the guy in the Hawaiian Punch commercial), “SURE” or “sure it is”, but also told me that I could try, only if I could get up on the skis right away, because he wasn’t going to spend all day waiting.

I got situated in the water and put both skis on my feet as quickly as as I could. Bernie gunned his boat motor, but the ski rope snapped right out of my hands. On the second attempt I gripped much harder, but as soon as I got up on the water, I slipped and fell. Very amused by that, Bernie let me try once more saying, “One more try Dover, and that’s it”. Being my very first time water skiing, I found out quickly, that water skis are just as slippery on water, as snow skis are on snow. He then made the point of explaining that I should signal with one hand – up for faster – and down for slower. They took off for my one last chance, and I managed to make it up on the water zipping along doing pretty well, and it was exhilarating. After a few turns, I went clear over to the outside over the boats wake. Then, I came back over the other way, and jumped high in the air using the lip of the water wake. It was just as easy as snow skiing, and GREAT fun, at least for the first few minutes.

Unfortunately, Bernie obviously only wanted to see how fast his new boat could go while pulling a water skier, because he started going so fast that I was actually too scared to let go, especially being in shallow water so close to the shore,and knowing that I could hit the bottom when falling, or even hit rocks, etc. So, the faster Bernie went, the tighter I held on to the rope. I went from in the position of arms being straight but relaxed, with my shoulder joints still in their sockets, and body in control, to looking like the Road Runner (cartoon character), with arms stretched out nearly pulled out from their sockets. I was petrified, and gritting my teeth with every muscle straining to hold on. I went from exhilaration, to panic, believing that I had to hang ON for dear life, because if I let go so close to shore, I’d possibly get injured, badly. Bernie didn’t seem to care one bit, and must have thought that my situation was hilarious. I managed to take one hand off the tow bar long enough to signal “DOWN”, as in SLOW DOWN, like Bernie told me to do. Instead, Bernie increased the speed. Did he misread my signal? Didn’t he know that I MEANT SLOW DOWN? I chanced releasing my hand for a second time, and signaled DOWN. Again, Bernie increased the speed – this time I am sure to every bit as fast as his 100 horse power 14 foot Boston Whaler would go, and we were way too close to the Lakeshore Blvd rock wall. I continued holding on for dear life, and Bernie obviously thought that it was hilariously funny to see that I was scared to death. Fun for Bernie… NOT for me.

I hung on clear into Detroit at full speed, and I think he took me as far as Belle Isle without slowing down a bit. I was holding on at full speed for so long that I started seeing junk in the water racing by me – like discarded cups, etc… (People probably remember every detail, and the last thing(s) seen, when you’re sure you’re going to die.) The water suddenly seemed much shallower, and I thought that I’d either hit a rock, any floating object, or even a piece of branch, or anything. I think that I actually did hit a rock, because I suddenly BOUNCED high into the air, and landed hard slamming on the water, front first. That only made me bounce off the water even higher into the air. I KEPT HOLDING ON TO THE TOW ROPE FOR DEAR LIFE, until for a second time, my body slammed onto the water surface with no life preserver to protect me. That nearly knocked me out, and sent me bouncing off the water through the air AGAIN, this time letting go of the rope, and cartwheeling two or three times before crashing through the water, and nearly drowning. I don’t remember much between that, and getting back to the Grosse Pointe Farms pier. I do remember lying on the concrete pier while seeing Bernie driving away in his boat, and Mark Boerner explaining to me how Bernie thought that my hand signal had meant faster. I had a line down the middle of my body that showed on one side, I was red like a beet. On the other side, I was bruised and blue. When my body’s numbness went away, and the pain set in, Mark again reasoned how Bernie could have misunderstood. I forgave, and survived, but heard that Bernie Allor died in 2013.

In another similar circumstance, when I became able to drive my father’s car after school, I stopped to visit one of the Simon sisters who had told me that I could jump on her family’s trampoline anytime that I wanted, so I did so, once. About a month or so later, and because they lived so close to me, I drove over again, and again parked my dad’s new Barracuda outside the front door of the Simon estate, but this time got verified by the OTHER Simon sister that I could jump on the tramp. This second time was the only other time that I ever bounced on the Simon’s tramp, and after bouncing this time, the other Simon sister invited me into their house to see their movie theater! They had an awesome house that took up a whole square block, and it was awesome on the inside, too, with a really wide hallway, and extra high ceilings. On my way downstairs with her, I saw Mr Simon who was sitting at his office desk, and I waved, but he was on the phone. I remember that it was dark down in the basement, and that for some strange reason, the Simon sister, Suzy(?) disappeared. So, I innocently walked back upstairs, and heard the doorbell sound. I think that the Simon sister reappeared to tell me to answer the door, and that was when she disappeared , or that may have been when she disappeared, again. In any case, when I opened the Simon front door, three guys instantly jumped me. Two of them held my arms behind my back, while the third one hit me square in the forehead with brass knuckles! They nearly broke my arm, too, but I managed to break away. I ran to my car, and drove to the hospital one handed. When I looked in the rear view mirror, my forehead skin had protruded outwards without breaking the skin, the length and size of the end of a finger. I think, now, that they thought that I was Ron Warbois (pronounced Warboys), and that he was probably the one who started sneaking over their high rock wall to jump on their tramp, and probably easily outrunning anyone going after him. He never told me that he ever went to the Simon’s trampoline, but I had him in my shop class where he demonstrated that he was a totally incurable juvenile delinquent, and I wish I had never met him. He was the reason that my shop teacher Mr Bamberger, whacked me in my kidney with a piece of rebar. I also wish that I had never mentioned to Warbois that I was given permission to jump on the Simon trampoline anytime that I wanted, because Ron Warbois lived much closer to the Simon property, and he would have most likely been able to trespass over their high rock wall to jump, and then run away, which understandably would have made any property owner angry. enough to call in the “dogs” so to speak. In fact, shortly after that, Ron Warbois suddenly dropped out of school, and disappeared forever, plus was the reason why I wasn’t invited to the Simon’s party when they had The Rolling Stones.