(I was trying to do touristy things with a slight limp)

This is a story about a girl named Lucky… Just kidding. It’s about me, stumbling through foreign countries, racking up medical mishaps like Pokémon, and somehow managing to stay alive. Truly a Christmas miracle.

(I was about to burst into tears in this photo)

After a month bouncing around Phuket, Thailand, doing an absurd number of fitness classes in the hot, humid sun (because why not sweat even more in a place that already feels like a sauna?), I made my way via bus and ferry to the little island of Koh Tao. Koh Tao is famous for its big dive scene—like, if you throw a rock, you’ll probably hit a dive instructor (please don’t). The island churns out a ridiculous number of diving certifications every week, and I figured, why not me too?

(I’m aware I look like a nerd in the photo)

When I was about 9 or 10, my grandpa took my siblings and me up to our cabin in the mountains for a night. This cabin had a TV with an exclusive selection of channels—by which I mean, almost none. We were camped out on the floor in our sleeping bags, flipping through to see what we could watch before bed. And what did we land on? Titanic. Not the fun “King of the World” part. Not even the draw me like one of your French girls part. No. We arrived just in time for the soul-crushing, ice-cold, nightmare-inducing sinking portion of the film.

(Underwater selfie Attempt)

During my divemaster internship, I had a diligent morning routine. I woke up at 4:30 AM to practice yoga under an open-air covered area outside our dorm room bungalow. My audience? Every local dog in the area, snoozing peacefully on the daybed….