Brooklyn Baywatch

There are a few moments in your life that feel like a montage from a movie or TV show.  For example, you’re driving along the Moroccan coastline and the perfect song comes on the radio and you think to yourself this moment would be the award winning ending to some cool, indy flick. Or you’re in the middle of some foggy, sweaty club and Mr. Tall-Dark-& Handsome walks towards you, the spotlight shines on only you two, everyone else on the dance floor disappears as he leads you through the bachata of your life.  On several occasions, I’ve felt like my dating life would make excellent fodder for a sitcom. 

Not in a million years, would I think a quiet Sunday, sitting on a Brooklyn beach would be the opening scene to my own personal Baywatch moment.  I had just returned from a debaucherous weekend in Atlantic City. The kind where you’re glad ad men came up with the tag line: What happens there; stays there. 

It was an unseasonably warm October day – 88 degrees.  I was having an in-depth therapy session with my best beach bum Amy when I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a woman struggling in the water.  She had somehow managed to get caught behind the rock wall.  She was oblivious to the fact that she was actually in trouble.  People had climbed on to the rocks shouting at her to get her attention.  She was caught in a cross current.  No matter how hard she swam, the current kept her in the same place, like one of those stationary pools.  My concern was that when she finally realized she was in trouble she would be too tired and panicked to stay afloat. 

I’m not sure what I was thinking but I calmly walked into the water, turned back to Amy and pointed at her and said, “call 911.”  I turned back towards the woman and thought, "I’m going to be the one that needs help."

I swam out to the woman and started a casual conversation with her.  I think it was then that she realized she was in a bit of trouble.  I kept her calm by cracking jokes and told her that we were in this together. Thankfully she was a decent swimmer and I was able to get her to tread water so she could catch her breath.  She was a big woman.  So I asked her to float on her back and hooked my arm around her shoulders and swam in about half way. 

That current was tough.  I stopped swimming.  And thought to myself I can’t do this.  A cold panic covered me and I looked around.  Then it came to me - I grew up spending my summers in Rockaway. No one understands the current more than me.   The current was pulling us left but in, towards the rock wall.  So we rode it.  A few seconds later, we were able to stand and walk over the rock wall back to the beach.

The hilarity that ensued after that was a scene out of the movie of the week.  I got up to the top of the rock wall and two helicopters (NYPD & Coast Guard) were hovering over me.  I looked behind me and there were three rescue boats (NYPD,  FDNY,  & Coast Guard) , 4 ambulances, two cop cars, two FDNY trucks, and a Parks Dept truck racing towards us with lights and sirens blaring. 

I looked down at myself.  I’m wearing nothing but a black string bikini that I had gotten for $10 at Old Navy.  I’m still drunk and dehydrated from the weekend’s activities and all I want is for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.  I turned to the woman who I had helped (African-American, late 50s, recovering from hip replacement surgery) and told her to have EMS check her out. Then I turned to look at Amy for validation that this scene was really happening. She busted out laughing and said, “Look, it’s your dating pool converging on one location.  You really are catnip for the public servant.”

Catnip or Carmen Electra, it really didn’t matter.  I was glad I was able to help someone.  But I still can’t seem to get the theme song from Baywatch out of my head.