OMD Travelogue | Day 223

Bike packed, I thank Anna and Steve for the hospitality and newfound friendship. Check the map. Wave goodbye and roll through the quiet morning neighborhood streets.

Seeing the sign I switch lanes. Turn into the sparsely filled parking lot and come to a stop. Full of nerves, I take a breath. Unload Baylor and head for the entrance.

Seeing a man in uniform approaching I wave slightly. Hi, you must by Mallory and Baylor. I smile, shake hands with John. Feel immediately more at ease as he gives Baylor scratches, tells me about his beloved dogs.

Walking to the ledge I marvel at the crystal clear lagoon. About the fact that in 1947 a man looked at this natural spring and decided it would be the perfect location to create an underwater attraction. A place to showcase his underwater skills and train others to put on entirely submerged ballets. A roadside attraction that would become synonymous with Old Florida, would fuel the dreams of young girls for decades, would entrance passersby of all ages with its beauty, its entertainment, its mermaids.

I’d never heard of Weeki Wachee Springs, until a few weeks ago. Passing through Naples, a new friend told me I really must pay it a visit. That I’d get an absolute kick out of watching the mermaids perform. I nodded enthusiastically. Agreed completely. If mermaids existed I wanted to see it.

Having spent my formative preschool years in Arizona, I practically lived in the pool. Trained to be on the swim team. Begged to be on the diving. Returned from all-day swim meets requesting to spend the evening poolside. I was obsessive. And no pool game was more enjoyed than ankle-bound mermaidian charades.

Pulling open the heavy door, I’m hit by a wave of heat. The tiny room looks like the scene out of a science fiction flick. Heavy, white cinder block walls envelope us. Walking across the cement floor, I stare at the large circular opening. John removes the grate and I stare down. Peer into a tube that plunges for more than 10 feet before jackknifing suddenly to carry on for more than 30 feet into the lagoon. Mermaids after all can’t just flop in from the shores. That would ruin the magic. With the aide of this water filled tube they can emerge from the depths of the spring as a mermaid should.

Hearing footsteps, I look to my left. Watch as a young man jogs down the steep spiral staircase. Introductions made, I learn he’s a performer in this afternoons performance, that he started as a water park life guard before being recruited as prime prince material. I ask about the best part of the job. He smiles, blushes slightly, Well, honestly, the best part is getting to be around the mermaids.

Show starting, Baylor and I settle in the front row. Watch as the performers rise from the depths. Move through choreographed song and dance routines. Juggle holding onto their oxygen tubes with wiggling their hips, swimming to and fro, diving down, twirling up.

It may not be the most extreme or technical performance, but it’s fun. Looking around the darkened theater, I smile. Alight from the blue lagoon, faces glow in wonderment. Children sit fully entranced by the mermaid tale. And that’s where the magic lies. In the ability to disrupt the everyday with a bit of fun and whimsy.

Standing on the dock, I mimic Mermaid Breanna as she demonstrates common underwater moves. Handing me a tail, she explains how to get in it, a technique similar to the scrunching needed to put on tights. Tails in place, we smile at each other. Scooching to the edge of the dock, I slide into the water. Gasp as the chilly 72 degree water rises to my neck.

Swimming across the lagoon, I notice immediately the weight and drag of the fabric tail. Realize most of the swimming really happens with the arms. Submerging, we practice sitting, waving, swimming. The moves aren’t particularly difficult, but they feel challenging. The professional mermaids made it look so simple to swim about, eyes wide open, smile firmly in place. And really that’s one of the biggest challenges. It is no small task to look calmly pleasant underwater. I have all new respect for all the mermaids out there.

Swimming across the lagoon, I’m given a mask to take in the sights. I watch as fish swim by, as a friendly turtle comes to see what all the hullabaloo is about. It truly is a beautiful natural spring.

Resting on the sandy shallows, I watch Breanna’s auburn locks float in the water.

Does being a mermaid make you want long hair? Because I’m really wishing I had long hair right now.

She laughs, It really does. About a week before I auditioned I’d cut my hair pretty short and ever since becoming a mermaid I’ve been trying to grow it as long as possible.

Seeing John and Baylor on the shore, I wave. Cajole Baylor in to getting in the water with us. He stares at the tail. Poses for some pics. Swims about. Wanders back to shore. Wiggles, rolls, shakes. Looks back at me. Aren’t you coming?

I’ll meet you on the other side, bud. Go around to the dock.

Walking across the parking lot, I can’t help but grin. Dreams written off as childish just came true.

I was a mermaid. Not a particularly good one. But a mermaid just the same. And with practice I’d surely improve.

Stuffing gear into the bike, I smile. Dreams written off as impossible are coming true every day.

I’m a motorcycle adventurer. Not a particularly good one. But a motorcycle adventurer just the same. And with practice I’m sure I’ll surely improve.

223 days down. Many to come.