I was drowning.
Or at least, I think I was, since I don’t have a lot of experience with drowning, but it sure seemed like I was drowning.
Under the water when I didn’t want to be? Check.
Flailing like an upside down turtle. Check.
Water going into places where it shouldn’t? Check.
Yup, I was drowning.
This was a major bummer.
Where was the help? They said there’d be spotters. Didn’t they spot the guy with the complexion of 2% milk out there in the water? My skin should’ve been reflecting the sun like a solar array. And yet, no one paddled over with even the most casual of a, “so, are you drowning or are you just a terrible swimmer?”
Maybe it was all the bodies around me, chopping the water with their fists and feet, churning the already murky lake into a frothy, wet fog. Maybe I was too slow and far behind. Maybe I was off-course?
I started to think that this was a rather lonely way to go. No drama. Just the muffled beats of fluttering feet above me as I sank.
I’d always wanted one of those dramatic “Die Hard” kind of deaths. This is mostly because I’m not terribly dramatic in my day-to-day life, I thought I could be in death. You know, the witty one-liner as I fell off the side of a building, crashing onto the roof of a Checker cab (Look it up. I’m a New Yorker at heart). This would be while saving the day, of course. Your basic, glorious passing.
Instead, here I was drowning and not even in the syrupy sweet way that Jack did in “Titanic.” Just a long, slow downward float. Have I mentioned that this is a major bummer?
Yes, I’d panicked. Or, I think I did. For that matter, I couldn’t even remember how I got into this predicament. I’m sure that on some level it’s my wife’s fault. But, since I was on an express trip to Davey Jones’ locker, I figure that I should take the high road and not try to assess blame. But, it really is her fault. Somehow. Heck, I’m drowning, and if there is ever a time to be petty, it’s now.
And then my head snapped up. I sucked in the cool, sweet air of my bedroom and looked around. 2:33 a.m. I’m alive. Dry and in bed. Oh great. My first open water nightmare.
And it’s only February.
Published February 27, 2013