My Good Old Water Shoes

by John
(Miami, FL, U.S.A.)

When I was just ten years old I went with my family on vacation to a destination by the name of Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

My story about water shoes, however, doesn’t take place in Tennessee, but rather on drive up there.

We all decided to take a long and winding scenic route through the Smoky Mountains called The Blue Ridge Parkway.

After about six hours of driving down this seemingly never-ending path, we came across a tourist rest stop that showcased a marvelous waterfall roughly 40 feet high which cascaded down the side of a huge mountain.

We decided to do the adventurous thing, so we began to cross the river (which was allowed) along the top of the falls.

Before leaving home, I knew that I would most likely be encountering water at some point, so I brought my favorite Batman water shoes.

I put them on and proceeded to follow my mom down this long cold stream.

Halfway across the river, I could look out over the fall and see miles of countryside all over North Carolina.

Then all of a sudden, SPLASH! I slipped on a mossy stone and was carried away toward the drop.

My mom rushed after me just in time to grab my hand before I went over the edge, but by that time my Batman water shoes were long gone.

They had been pulled off my feet by the current and tossed down the drop. I was just happy to be alive.

Here’s where the story gets good, A couple of stops down the road, we decided to rest for lunch.

Low and behold, a man that had gone fresh water fishing alongside the river had picked up two Batman water shoes during his hours there.

Because I was barefoot, he asked if they belonged to me. I said yes!