A year ago. Summer. Heat. Went to a water park. Me, looking all beautiful, in a new swimsuit—two strings and a lot of hope. Decided to conquer the highest slide. "Kamikaze" The name should have been a warning, but no. I climb to the top. The instructor, a guy about twenty, bored: "Lie down, cross your arms, don't spread your legs" Yeah, right. I lie down, close my eyes. The water flow catches me, and I fly down at the speed of light. Sensation is crazy. At one point, I feel a strange lightness... like something extra left my body. Splash into the pool. Surface. Try to fix my hair. And then I realize: the "extra" thing was my swimsuit top. I'm sitting in the water covering myself with my hands, while my pink bra drifted down slowly behind me, bobbing on the waves. On the deck stands a lifeguard—that same guy. Looks at me, imperturbably hands me a net. A NET! "Miss, catch your property" Wanted to sink through the floor. Fished it out, put it on right there in the water, trying not to look around. Didn't go on any more slides that day. Just sat in the kiddie pool where it’s knee-deep and thought about how extreme sports require either full wetsuits or nerves of steel. Or at least a swimsuit bolted on!!!