Death by Canopy

A beautiful storm blew over the beach today in a matter of moments. As we hastily gathered our few belongings and began the trek back to the building, the wind whipped up the sand around us, blinding us with the pelting pellets. I glanced up to see a blue tent canopy rising off the ground ten feet from me. The wind whirled it straight for my head. 

I'm amazed how quickly our brains can think in tense situations: I analyzed my options in the span of one second and decided to throw myself to the ground in fetal position and cover my head with my hands, like I'd been taught twenty-five years ago in grade-school tornado drills. 

Neither of us had time to feel fear before safety was assured, but Hubs pointed out that I could have been impaled as the canopy flipped and whirled and implanted itself--very firmly--in the sand again. 

So, I guess I escaped death today? I feel like I'm on the movie Final Destination. Who gets impaled by a canopy?!