It was a muggy day in July or August 1997 or 1998. We packed up little Mercedes and Madison, me, Steph, and Eva and headed for the murky shores of Galveston. It was a sandy day of fun in the partially overcast sun.
Late in the day, Stephanie and I decided to swim way out. So we did... further and further, past where our feet could touch. We were treading water and laughing and talking, carefree in the way of 19 year olds at the beach.... then suddenly Stephanie cried out "Ouch! What was that!" I was unconcerned until something brushed past my arm and ZAP... the sting. Panicked, we tried to swim away, only to find our gelatinous companions surrounding us on every side. Sting! Sting! Sting! Our arms and the back of our legs were the prey... We were screaming and waving our arms as we tried to swim out... Eva was on the shore, cheerily waving back and taking pictures. I said to Steph, "Here's a picture of Jess and Stephanie, right before they died..."
Well, you may not have guessed, but we made it to shore. Barely. And since that day, Stephanie and I are waders only. We shall leave the swimming to you, the naive.