MadMup.com

I did not win the radio contest.

The station I listen to is running a movie trivia contest this week.. They play an audio clip and the caller who identifies the movie wins a CD, a DVD, and is entered into a drawing for a grand prize of a home theater system. It seems like a strange giveaway for a Christian radio station, but, hey, movie trivia.

On my way to work this morning the clip was “There’s no crying in baseball!” I dialed. And dialed. And dialed. Busy, busy, busy. The lady who got through was all, “Well, it’s Tom Hanks and there’s a women’s baseball team” but couldn’t come up with the answer. I’m talking to the radio at this point: “A League of Their Own! Geena Davis! Lori Petty! Madonna! Rosie O’Donnell!” I don’t know how it turned out because I had to go in to work.

I’ve tried calling in to several radio contests and I’ve always had pretty much that same experience. Either it’s busy or they’re getting too many calls and my call won’t go through. I’ve always been suspicious that no one ever actually wins the contests, because how could they? It seems like a racket.

On my way back to work from a later-than-usual lunch, the DJ started talking about the next clip “coming right up.” He played it – an easy one – “[slap] Snap out of it!” It’s Cher slapping Nicolas Cage in Moonstruck, and I would have known that even if I hadn’t seen the movie, because I remember that scene and line from the ads they played back then (was that really 1987?? Yikes.)

I hit dial as soon as they clip was done, gearing up to hit redial a bunch more times and then go into work deflated yet again. Weirdly enough, the phone rang. That surprised me, but then I reassured myself that “they’re looking for the eleventh caller and you’re the tenth.” It only rang a couple of times, and then this guy picked up:

I had no idea what he looked like before now, but I kind of think he looks a little like I might look in not too many more years.

Anyway, I told him who I was, still expecting him to say, “You were so close,” and then he asked me if I knew what movie the clip was from. “Well, yeah, that’s Cher talking to Nicolas Cage in Moonstruck.”

“You’re right! You’ve won the CD/DVD and are entered in the grand prize drawing!”

I was more than a little floored, and I said the first thing that came to mind: “Sweet monkey!” It’s a phrase I picked up from my friends Matt & Kat a few years back, and it has stuck with me.

As soon as I said it, JD said, “Yep, an— what did you say?!”

“Uh, ‘sweet monkey’.”

“I have never heard that before!”

“Well,” I said, “you are more than welcome to use it!”

After that he collected my name, address, and phone number and at one point said “They must grow them smart in Indiana!” which prompted me to ask if someone else from Indiana had won earlier today. His answer was no, so I was a little confused, but we didn’t pursue that any further.

So now I’m getting a DVD that I think I’ll like and a CD that I don’t think I will. I sense an upcoming contest here on MadMup.com for that one… On top of that, I’m entered in a big ol’ contest. I don’t suspect I’ll win that, but it was cool to put my immense library of brain-stored movie trivia to good use for once.

(It turns out that quote was voted as the #96 movie quote by the American Film Institute. Cher slaps Nic and says the line right after he says “I love you!”)

For two years when I was too young to go a full week of summer camp, I went to weekend summer camp. It was somewhere around third grade or so, and I think it was more about getting me used to being away from home than anything else.

I was young enough that I hadn’t really had any experience around a collection of water bigger than a bathtub, so swimming looked like a cool thing to me. I wasn’t foolish enough to just go out and try it, of course – I could tell that it was something you needed to know how to do – but the little waterslide right on the edge of the beach looked fun, so I decided to give that a try. And, hey, it was fun. I went down it again, and it was still fun. The third time, though… not as much fun. After I landed in the water, I turned around to yell to my friend who was in line after me. I was a bit unsteady on my feet and I might have tripped over something, but the next thing I knew, I had fallen backwards into and under the water.

I’m sure everyone’s had that feeling at some point, that panic of not being able to find footing, the feeling of water going up your nose, swallowing water in an attempt to breathe, flailing for any sort of surface to grab to help pull your head above water. Complete helplessness, utter panic, and intense fear.

I don’t know how I got out or how long I was under. It felt like minutes, but I’m sure it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. I was crying and afraid and the most amazing thing to me was that no one had noticed. The lifeguards and other campers were all still going on about their lives as though I hadn’t just almost died. I felt… betrayed. Hurt. Alone. I mean, it’s a lifeguard’s JOB to watch out for drowning kids, for crying out loud!

I left the beach and didn’t go back.

A couple of years later, I had moved up to week-long summer camp. Our counselor pushed us all to sign up for the whitewater rafting trip later in the week. He assured me that everyone wore lifejackets, so I would not drown. Somehow in the course of the trip, I fell out of the raft and, even with a lifejacket on, ended up underwater. All the same feelings came back instantly.

There’s no more-enclosed space than being underwater. I don’t know if I was claustrophobic before these experiences, or if these almost-drownings made me claustrophobic, I just know that being underwater and being n an enclosed space (or a large crowds) give me the same feelings.

Six years ago I took some swimming lessons to try to get past fear. I’d been able to dodge swimming activities for a long time, but I decided to try to conquer it and get on with my life. The first half of my daily lessons were an exercise in reliving all those fears over and over. Ultimately the lessons did help, but if you don’t use it, you lose it, and I didn’t get back in a pool until last summer, by which point any confidences I had were gone.

That experience, though, taught me the beauty and peacefulness of floating. I absolutely loved it. I enjoyed it so much that I many times since wished I could find a quiet pool and just float. Not having that opportunity, I think I sorta lost that drive, too. Now when I think about swimming pools, I fondly remember floating, but I also vividly remember what it feels like to start drowning.

Longing for something that scares me is a contradiction I can’t quite wrap my ahead around.