What I Learned After I Almost Died in Hawaii and How It Changed Me
This scary wake-up call taught me important life lessons.
I was 20 years old and so excited to go on my first trip with friends to Hawaii. We managed to finagle a deal on airfare, a hotel room, and a rental car for Spring Break. These were the same 3 young women I had spent the past summer rooming with when we all had internships in DC, so it was like a great reunion to be able to spend a week together. Plus, Hawaii was far more welcoming to a group of four Asian Americans than DC, where we experienced more than a dozen incidents of racism and sexual harassment.
I had been to the island of Oahu with my family once years earlier, so I knew there was a significant Asian American and Pacific Islander population there. But I still loved it when locals assumed the four of us (all Asian Americans) were locals, too. That was my first mistake, thinking I could pass for a local and do what the locals do.
The first few days of the trip were glorious. We would hit the beach, inhale local food (I had my first taste of Spam!), and then check out the dance clubs. One beautiful sunny day, we left Waikiki and headed east to explore the rest of the island. We pulled over at Sandy Beach, which looked stunning and was full of locals.
We walked past the lifeguard station, which should have been my first clue that this was not a typical beach. I don’t recall seeing lifeguards at any of the other beaches we went to. But I was hot and eager to get into the ocean and cool off, so I conveniently ignored that anomaly.
As we got closer to the beach, we saw the signs warning of strong currents. Yet there were young tweens and teens body boarding and body surfing in the ocean, so we figured we could ignore the warnings, too. After all, we were older and bigger than them.
We set up our beach towels, stripped down to our bikinis, and hurried into the water. At first, there was a lot of giggling. This was way better than being stuck at boring Waikiki Beach with all the tourists. At that beach, swimmers are protected by a seawall so there are barely any waves.
We were maybe knee-deep in the ocean, just a few steps in. So I waded in deeper to where the water rose to my hips. That was my second mistake — stepping away from my friends.
Suddenly, a strong current pulled at me and I lost my footing. I went down to my knees and struggled to stand up. I remember looking at my friends, about to call for help, when a wave crested nearby and knocked me down. My last vision before I lost sight of them was seeing one friend grabbing onto another friend, as the two of them were falling, too.
The powerful current immediately spun me head over heels. I could not tell which way was up at first. Then I struggled to swim toward the sunlight and get to the surface, knowing I was in a shallow part of the beach that was only 3–4 feet deep. Yet I could not stand up nor keep my head above water. Another wave hit and pulled me parallel to the ground, dragging my back along the ocean floor. I remember the pain of being towed so roughly over the rocks. I tried to fight the current pulling me deeper into the ocean, but I could not free myself.
That is when I distinctly remember thinking, “I am going to die. The Daily Bruin [UCLA’s student newspaper] is going to run a headline about me dying in Hawaii on Spring Break.” That’s also when I gave up fighting. I couldn’t breathe and I was exhausted.
Miraculously, after I gave up fighting, the current suddenly let me go. I felt myself floating in the ocean, halfway out of the water near the shoreline. As I was crawling out of the water on my hands and knees, I heard the lifeguard yelling, “Hey, do you speak English? Get out of the water.”
Normally, I bristle whenever someone asks if I speak English. Just because I am of Asian descent doesn’t mean I am not American. But I was bone-weary and just ignored him. I stumbled to my towel where I collapsed on my stomach. My friends had made it out of the ocean before me and were aghast at the sight of my bloody back. One went to see if the lifeguard had a first-aid kit. I don’t remember what happened next. I just remember lying on that towel, grateful for the opportunity to breathe as I absorbed the calming warmth of the sun.
We learned later that Sandy Beach is also known as “Broke Neck Beach” because the tide is so strong that swimmers/bodysurfers are regularly subjected to serious spinal injuries. Doing a little background research, almost 25 years later, I see that multiple people (even experienced locals) have been paralyzed due to accidents at Sandy Beach. There’s even a Washington Post news article about this beach because it’s apparently President Obama’s favorite beach.
I think back on this experience and remember all the missed clues and mistakes that led to this near-death experience. I never made the same mistakes again and I think the lessons I learned work in a lot of different situations.
- As a traveler, I shouldn’t assume that I can do whatever the locals do. Visitors need to tread lightly and be very aware of their limits. I don’t know the history of this new place, nor its customs. I make an effort to research every destination I travel to now so I won’t be caught off-guard again.
- Lifeguards are rarely stationed at safe beaches. If I see a lifeguard, I should take a second glance at the ocean and assess whether *I* should enter. Even though tweens and teens were already in the ocean when we approached, they were locals who knew what to expect. I need to focus on my capabilities and limits, not compare myself to others.
- Warning signs exist for a reason. Ignore them at your peril. Why re-invent the wheel when someone else is ready to share their hard-won knowledge with you?
- Don’t wander away from the group when you’re in unfamiliar waters. I didn’t venture far, but I stepped away from my friends into deeper water. This meant I was pulled farther out into the ocean and was the last to exit the ocean. This lesson has proved helpful in clubs and other settings to protect myself from sketchy men. There is safety in numbers.
- Savor the simple pleasures and don’t always chase the “exciting” adventures. We had a pleasant experience at Waikiki Beach but craved something more than a “cookie-cutter” tourist experience. When I was lying on that beach towel at Sandy Beach, recovering from my terrifying ordeal, I was so grateful for the warm sun on my bloody back and the ability to take deep breaths of air. That level of gratitude sometimes only comes when you've been scared senseless. I try to regularly cultivate an appreciation of the simple joys without experiencing the terror first.
I always respect the ocean now. You only have to be shown its power once and that lesson lasts a lifetime. Fortunately, the silver lining is that my near-death experience also taught me lessons that continue to guide me in my life today. Humility and gratitude are two incredible concepts I hope to pass on to my kids. And if I bring them to Oahu, I’ll make sure we stick to the gentle beaches.