Once, when my family went to Mexico, we were snorkeling and diving on the beaches and in the bays. It was pleasant shift from Utah, where it was blizzarding at the time. But one day someone was taken out of the water, nearly paralyzed, because she had been stung by a jellyfish. That night, everyone at the hotel gathered at the bar, avidly discussing the dramatic event of the day.
“What you’re supposed to do,” one man offered, “is pee on it.”
And my mother, who is usually the most level-headed one in the family replied.
“But… what if it swims away?”