Sewage Sardines

Two nights ago I was staying in a Bed and Breakfast called, La Dehesa, with my group who was about to return to the U.S. the next morning. I was lying in bed reading when I got a soft knock on my door.

Voice: "Jessica?"
Me: "Yes?"
Voice: "Um...Mike* had an accident."
Me: "What?!"

I shot out of bed. Usually when I get a knock on my door like this it means we are going to the hospital.

I opened the door.

Male group member: "Well... we were playing "sardines", and there was a big tank, and Mike..."
Other male group member: "No, no it's okay! In case you're wondering Mike was safe! He's in the shower right now cleaning up."

In my mind, I'm picturing blood, head trauma, the worst of the worst.

Me: "Is he bleeding? Is he injured? Do I need to call a doctor?"
Group of boys: "Hahahaha. No, it's nothing like that. He just fell through the ground into a sewage tank."

Lord.

Chalk that one up to a new chaperone experience. Apparently, this boy had found a great hiding spot for the game of "sardines". That is, until the ground gave way and he found himself plunging into a tank of bottomless, brown, murky water.

He seemed to be able to laugh about it though. He said it wasn't scary, just confusing. One minute he was hiding from his classmates, and the next, he was emerging soaking wet and covered in brown water. He said his feet never touched the ground but that he managed to grab the sides of the tank to keep from fully submerging.

I think we were all grateful for that.

I think we all tried to convince him it was just rain water as well.

Pura vida,

Jessica Lynn