The Boat Wreck

The biggest lie I ever told was about an imaginary boat wreck.

I was 9 or 10-years-old and my family had been in a pretty scary car accident the year before. I became obsessed with wrecks of all kinds. I imagined my school bus crashing on the way home every day in 4th grade.

And during this time in my life my family liked to take road trips to Lake LBJ, where we water-skied and frolicked on our totally rad 80s motorboat.

I loved the trips, the skiing, and the whole gig, but I also spent half the time lost in some sort of sick twisted fantasy about what would happen if our boat crashed into something or flipped over in the water.

The fantasy always involved everyone turning out healthy and safe and so I nurtured it into some sort of rescue/survival/attention-getting scenario.

Then one night I told my babysitter about the famous Boat Wreck of the Summer of 1982. Complete with elaborate flips, submersions, and floating in the water waiting for a rescue.

I made it up. It was a complete lie. And I told it and told it and re-told it. I told it so many times that I believed that it was true for a few years.

Many years later I finally confessed to one of my best college girlfriends.

“I made up a lie about a boat wreck when I was a kid,” I told her.

“Freak,” was her stone-faced response.

Freak, indeed.

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