Baywatch

Talking about phobias, I hate water. Don't get me wrong, I will still take showers. It's probably a childhood trauma. Again, let me share a couple of stories.

1. Swimming was a part of my physical education class in high school. It was during these years that I became the best liar of all times. I came up with every conceivable excuse to skip class. My time of the month became my time of the week, until the instructor noticed; then I had to stage fake colds, cough attacks, flus and migraines.
2. When I was younger, my family went to the beach. As usual, I didn't go as far as 10 steps into the beach. My eccentricity paid off when my brother had to be carried out of deeper water, his left foot stung by a jellyfish. To this date, I will not go into the beach without wearing shoes. Thanks for the lesson, Carlos.
3. Once during a Church event for Young Single Adults, we went to a place with a big pool. Trying to deal with my childhood trauma in my own way, I had a few of my friends throw those who refused to follow my orders into the deep end of the pool. As my most resisting enemy faced impending submersion in water, he grabbed both my arms, and jumped into the pool, dragging me along with him. So you'd think after 5 years of swimming classes, I'd know what to do, right? Wrong. I fell like a rock straight to the bottom. But I had trained my disciples well, and at the risk of their own lives, a couple of them dove into the embrace of my soon-to-be watery tomb, and took me out of there. I couldn't even walk or talk straight afterwards.

Nowadays, whenever I have to go into one of those "chlorine graves", I conveniently stay in the kid's section. No shame in being safe.