Escaping the Belly of the Beast

(And finding yourself along the way)

Story by Brandon Highwood

It’s been said that the likelihood of being swallowed by a whale ranges somewhere in the ballpark of hitting the lottery and being struck by lightning in the same week. Well, we don’t buy it. As far as we’re concerned, every trip out into the big blue includes the very real possibility of a whale encounter. After all, it was just a few short years ago that a veteran lobster diver was swallowed up right on the shores of Cape Cod. And listen, if that guy ain’t safe, no one is. 

With all that uncertainty looming among the depths, we thought it best to catalog a no-nonsense blueprint for such a scenario. A survival guide that offers critical tips, potential solutions, and at least one solid fourth-wall break. So, if you ever happen to find yourself on the business end of a whale’s meal plans, here’s what The Flow Trip recommends. 

PHASE 1: ACCEPTANCE

Understand Your Situation

Yes. You are, indeed, being swallowed by a whale. That is not a metaphor. It’s not your landlord, your in-laws, or your inbox — though, coincidentally, those are also large, gaping voids that consume everything in their path. This, however, is an actual whale that is — at this very moment — unhinging its jaws like a CrossFit gym garage door to fully engulf you, your overpriced kayak, that GoPro you swore you needed, and whatever is left of your pride. 

At this point, resistance is just silly. If Moby-Dick taught us anything, it’s that when a whale sets its mind to something, it really commits. So stop your flailing and accept the terms. 

But while your body may be embarking on a journey into squelching unknowns, your wits and will must remain intact. Buckle up and lock in.

Conduct a Quick Census

Once you’re comfortably tucked inside the whale, take a beat. Collect yourself. First, make sure you’re still alive — we recommend a firm flick to the earlobe. Second, pull out your phone and rip a quick Google search: “Has anyone been swallowed by a whale today?” Stranger things have happened. Like that guy in the Bible. Or the lobster diver from earlier. 

If you find any others in there, add each other on LinkedIn, and then immediately form a Whale Survival Task Force. Decide on core values. Appoint a treasurer. Start planning your TED Talk. At the very least, you’ll want a group photo. 

Avoid the Hero Play 

Listen, we get it. We know how tempting it may be to try and fashion a spear from a leftover fish skeleton and buzzsaw your way out, but let’s think about it. Since offering yourself up as an entrée, your ocean-going host has likely made its way 100 to 150 meters below the surface by now. Let’s say you’re able to spring a leak and push yourself through — do you really like your odds? Neither do we. 

Look, you’re in this. Both the situation and the whale. Acceptance is the first step, but far from the last. We push on.

PHASE 2: ACCLIMATION

Build a Rapport 

Desperate times call for desperate communication strategies. Start with the basics — try talking to the whale. Will it feel ridiculous? Sure. Will you work a Borat impression into it? Obviously. But remember, you’re already inside a whale. You unmoored your vessel from the shores of dignity a long time ago. 

Use a calm tone. Try to reason with it. Compliment the elasticity of its skin. Commit to veganism in real time. Maybe get weird with it and pretend you’re its conscience. Take a swing at guessing the whale’s favorite Alanis Morissette tune. Go nuts.

Just know that if the whale does respond, you now have bigger problems. And also a very good chance of turning this experience into a straight-to-streaming feature film.

Commit to the Landscape 

After greeting your new host, it’s time to hunker down. Gather whatever debris the whale has swallowed (seaweed, waterproof watches, a surprisingly well-preserved copy of Atlas Shrugged), and start building out your dojo with whatever you can find. Make yourself at home. After all, you did buy the whale a meal. 

Journal your experience. Sketch a floor plan and consider future remodeling possibilities. Start crafting the spec script for Oh Whale, Here Blows Nothing, and make sure the story is told in a way that captures your best qualities. Maybe rack up some brownie points and promise your new sea-dwelling pal that he’ll get his own monologue if he lets you out alive, somewhere close to shore. 

Reflect on Your Life Choices 

One thing is for certain: You’re going to have time to think. Lots of it. No distractions. No Microsoft Teams meetings. Just the rhythmic thump of blubber bounce and the muted whoosh of the ocean around you. 

How did you get here? Was it pride? A thirst for adventure? A fantasy football punishment gone awry? Think of the lessons you’ve learned since being here. Explore the deep corners of your mind. Consider how you’ll live differently when you’re out. 

And trust us, friend-o, you will get out.

PHASE 3: ADJUSTMENT

Attempt Outside Communication 

It’s been a bit, let’s try the cell phone again. If you’ve got a signal, fire up a call. Do NOT dial 911 — they’ve heard enough whale stories to last a lifetime. Call your mom. Text a marine biologist. Message your middle school science teacher on Facebook (it was weird that they added you a few years back, but life has a funny way of shaking out, huh?). 

No signal? No worries. You can always revert to old-fashioned methods of communication — yelling, sobbing, and high-volume profanity are all welcome. 

If all communication efforts fail, that means there’s only one choice left. It’s time to flip those water Crocs into sport mode, hombre. 

Plan Your Escape 

Freedom will require sacrifice and improvisation. Is there a way to construct a flotation device from swallowed lifejackets, sea debris, and the unrelenting pressure of your own choices? Possibly, but you’ll need to dig deep and get creative. Buoyancy is the magic word here; search for anything that can keep you above water when you make it there. 

Driftwood to form a raft, seaweed to use as rope, bottles that housed messages that were vastly underwhelming, anything you can get your hands on to keep your dreams (and the rest of you) alive. 

Locate the Blowhole 

Whales, as it turns out, breathe air like we do. They just happen to do it through their head, which makes them nature’s accidental snorkelers. Your best chance at escape is to hitch a ride on a deep exhale or a rogue sneeze. 

Locating the escape path will require a hike through surroundings that can only be described as “moist” and “dome-like.” It gets worse. Once you’ve located said ejector tube, there’s likely only room for one human, two at max. Needless to say, you and your new LinkedIn connections will have some difficult decisions to make. 

We never said this journey would be an easy one.

PHASE 4: ACTION

Prepare for Breach 

This is it. You advanced through the most important rock-paper-scissors tournament of your life, and now you’re preparing to be launched out of a whale and into the sky. It will be dramatic. You will be covered in unspeakable fluids. It will be like getting double-bounced on a trampoline, only so much worse. 

You’ll feel an intense pressure around you, the force of a thousand saltwater bidets beneath you, and then sunshine on your face. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to bask in the glory of freedom just yet — you’ll need to ensure you don’t crash back down on the whale and instigate a second course. 

We recommend standard cannonball form through the surface before treading water and finding your bearings, your raft, and your new LinkedIn connection, Herman. 

Reconnect With the World 

You’ve escaped. You’re alive. You smell like kelp and sadness, but you made it. Make your way toward the nearest shore or passing vessel, wish Herman luck as he makes his journey back to New York, and take stock in the fact that you survived what will hopefully be the most absurd scenario of your entire life. 

Our advice? Scrub the whale residue off your freshly written spec script, find the nearest payphone, get in touch with Benedict Cumberbatch’s team, and start shopping it around. This ain’t the type of storyline you keep contained to your circle of friends, we need to share this with the world. 

Identify Safer Hobbies 

Whales may be majestic, brilliant creatures, but you’ll likely see them in a different light from this point on. Now, we’re not saying you need to swear off the ocean forever, but maybe stick to sandbars and shorelines for a year or two. Pools are also a solid choice. Anywhere with a lifeguard on duty, really. 

And if you’d prefer to steer clear of the deep blue sea for a while, dry land has a wealth of activities to enjoy. Write a play. Take up basket weaving. Spend a ridiculous amount of money on pickleball gear. Whatever speaks to your soul, give it a go. Just make sure you proceed with caution.

Welp, there ya have it. A completely foolproof guide to whale-swallow survival from a team that is super qualified to speak on the topic. Rest easy knowing that, in the event that you find yourself on the menu of nature’s largest living flotation device, you’ll live to tell the whale tale. 

Swim easy, friends.