The hot Florida sun was setting as my brother Mikey and I, in our swimsuits, climbed up the steps into the line for the orange, corkscrew waterslide. I was thirteen years old, which would have made him about eleven. Another family vacation, this time to Orlando for Universal Studios. We stayed at the Nickelodeon hotel which was a colorful and cheery place, surrounded by Spongebob and every other cartoon character you could think of. Mikey loved it. He’d go off walking around the whole place, laughing as he gazed up at the life-size pictures of every funny character he saw on TV. My dad would follow behind him twenty steps back, keeping a distant eye on him since every time he’d try to catch up with him, Mikey would shake his head and shoo him away. Then keep walking as he wanted his independence as he explored the place.
My parents do a great job of handling Mikey and not putting any stress on my sister and I. Often, that’s how it went. When Mikey wanted to go somewhere else or got upset, either mom or dad would go with him and the other would stay with us while we did whatever activity we had planned. I didn't have to worry about being stuck in a predicament with Mikey where I wouldn't know what to do. Mom and dad knew what to do, not me. In public, I admit I have anxiety when it comes to the unexpectedness that goes along with a brother like Mikey. What if he started screaming in the middle of a crowd? I’d know I’d walk away and let my parents figure it out. They tell me that’s what I should do. I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that, I don’t what to do so why should I hover around the situation. Yet as I walk away, I wipe any feeling I have off my face as if I am not associated with the scene I am escaping from.
As Mikey and I come to the front of the line, the lifeguard tells us it is our turn. We climb up the net crawl going upwards to the top of this monstrous playground, continuously being soaked by tipping water buckets. I laughed as I appreciated that Mikey and I were having fun together doing something exciting in a new and unfamiliar place. It doesn’t happen too often. I didn’t think he would be up for a big waterslide like this, instead maybe just floating around in the pool with my dad like usual.
We lifted our feet from the scratchy rope climb and stepped onto the platform. We walked to the slide, gazing out to the huge pool that sat below where my mom waited at the bottom of the slide. We were on top of the world, I was proud Mikey wanted to do this. He stood at the opening of the slide, smiling and giggling, looking all around. “Go Mikey! I’ll be right behind you.” I said. He didn’t move. I kept encouraging him to go, but he stood still. He wasn’t scared, just taking his time. My heart started to race. I didn’t expect this. I looked down as the lifeguard was saying something and motioning his hand forward. The line of kids behind him just stared up at me. They were all waiting on us, what do I do? I kept telling Mikey to go, each time getting less friendly. He kept looking around and up at the sky, smiling. I nodded my head to the lifeguard, and looked away like I had it under control. The clock in my head kept ticking, and it felt like hours standing up there. The number of people in the pool watching us seemed to suddenly grow, although it was probably just in my head. Were we going to have to climb back down, come on already Mikey! I was angry at my parents that this was happening. I was embarrassed. I guess I just have no hope in any other people that they could possibly have the ounce of humility to understand anything. Finally, he slid down joyously in a split second. I breathed in deep. I didn’t wait to watch him splash into the water before I slid down behind him. I couldn't stand up there any longer.
When I hit the water, I swam to my mom and her face was glowing as Mikey twirled around in the water next to her, probably ecstatic after what he had just accomplished. I was still calming down from what was probably in reality merely 90 seconds of what felt like torture. I looked around and business was as usual, no one looked appalled or whispered about the hold-up that we just put all those kids through. Not until now, am I able to look back and realize how much of that moment was blown up in my head. Why was I so embarrassed? Not because of him, but because of the inconvenience I thought we were causing. Because of what I thought people were thinking on the inside. Because of what I thought people would view us as: different.