I spent last week in Florida, sipping many a margarita on the beach. It was the perfect vacation – and I took a few moments to just do nothing.

As I sat on the beach with my boyfriend Josh on Anna Marie Island, Fla., he compared the hustle and bustle of Jasper to the island off the coast of his hometown, Bradenton, Fla. He said, “In Jasper people go out and do something. Here, people are content to go out and do nothing.” When in Rome, do as the Romans do, they say. 

The population of Jasper, at just over 5,000 or so, is a drop in the bucket compared to the more than 53,000 that live in Bradenton. Sure there was traffic, but the most urgent concern we had on the island was navigating a tight parking lot in our not-so-mini rental van, or grabbing the perfect beach spot to set up an umbrella – and then there was the margarita supply. That was our most pressing need. 

I couldn’t have found a place more different than Jasper to vacation. As I laid on the beach, taking the occasional dip in the Gulf of Mexico to cool down (unfortunately discovering that gulping down salt water accidentally is no fun at all, especially if you get it up your nose or in your eyes), I forgot about everything but the cool ocean breeze and the feathery white sand on my toes. 

I couldn’t be content that way, however. I have too much of Jasper in me already, and I have to worry about or do something. 

I worried about stingrays and jellyfish, and Josh talked them up to bug me, but none materialized in the crystal-clear water. We did the “stingray shuffle” across the sand just in case. Josh discovered I am grossed out by seaweed and threw bits of it at me whenever it drifted by – as any boyfriend would do.

After a few days, I was starting to itch for a Jasper-style activity, so we pulled out the kayaks and circled the lake behind his parent’s house. I paddled furiously ahead of Josh, who asked me when the last time I went kayaking was. “Ummm, never?” I replied. He couldn’t believe it. 

A few days later, the kayaks were loaded into the back of the van, affectionately named The Tank by that point, and off we went to Mar Vista, a beautiful channel and docking area for boats. It was Memorial Day weekend, so the channel was busy. Rude jet skiers took it upon themselves to zoom right in front of our path, sending waves crashing into our bows. Josh taught me how to ride them out, and we scooted across the channel to a nearby island and hunted for sand dollars, starfish and crabs in the shallow water. It was quiet, except for the huge fish jumping in and out of the water. I was terrified one would jump into my kayak. Josh laughed – and told me that every squeal I let out as a fish jumped nearby was like crying wolf. He would never know if I was in real trouble. 

His parents were nice enough to buy us tickets to Busch Gardens, an Africa-themed rollercoaster park. I’ve never been one for rollercoasters, but I was determined to try one for Josh’s sake. 

We went on the wooden rollercoaster, called Gwazi. I have never been a fan of wooden rollercoasters, and it was the scariest coaster I would ride that day. Next was the first baby upside-down coaster called Scorpion, which had one upside down loop. I clung to Josh’s arm and screamed my lungs out, but I survived – and, it was fun! On to bigger and better things. 

We approached Montu, one of the world’s tallest and longest inverted coasters. It took 10 minutes to convince me, and several lies about the number of upside down sections (Josh said two, the correct number was seven). When the restraint came down, I discovered I couldn’t hold on to Josh, but I could scream – and boy did I scream. 

We climbed up, me still whimpering and wondering how I had been talked into this, and then dropped. We flew up the first big loop with my eyes squeezed shut. I felt the second one coming on, and timidly opened my eyes to discover – hey, this isn’t so bad! My terrified shrieks (Josh’s hearing will never be the same) turned to excited yahoos, and when Montu finally pulled back into the station, I screamed once more: “AGAIN, AGAIN!” So we did – and I will forever be a rollercoaster lover, as well as someone who can’t sit still for too long.  

DISCLAIMER: The Last Word is an opinion column, it is meant to provoke thought and debate. As such, any opinions written here are the writer’s own and do not reflect the viewpoint of any other Fitzhugh staff member or the directors of the Jasper Media Group Inc.