Last night, right after my friend JR went to sleep, I decided to go jump in the canal for one final late night swim before going to bed.
I jump in the water -- warm, dark, fantastic -- then turn around to swim back to the dock, but when I raise my head I don't see anything that looks familiar, just lots of yachts in the dark, shadowy shapes and black water.
And I am caught in a cross current, swirling fast around me. I swim and swim, diagonally, finally reach the other side, but it's nothing I recognize: no pier, just dark palms and strange houses. And I can't get out of the water, as there is no ladder, just a wall, until I figure out to use the ropes of a boat, hoist myself up with my feet, and, scratching my knees on the rocks, throw myself out on the grass.
Breathing fast, I look around, at all the yachts floating in the dark, and realize I have no idea what side of the canal I am on, as when I got into the rip tide, I must have gotten turned around so I am totally disoriented.
Nor do I have any idea where my friend lives: address, house, last name, nothing.
I thought about swimming up and down, one side and then another, until I recognized something -- in a moonless night -- but realized rationally that I would probably panic and perhaps drown, especially since I had no idea how strong I was, nor how far the rip tide had taken, nor in what direction.
So I decided not to risk it, climbed the twenty foot fence of this mansion (quick decision: no choice), jumped down the other side, and just walked barefoot in a bikini up and down the street, to figure out what side of the canal I was.
I knew only that my friend's house number was an "even number" that ended with four.
The numbers on the street were odd numbers, so I narrowed it down to the other side, snuck behind another mansion (hoping I would not get shot or attacked by dogs: this is the US), dove back in the water, assessing first whether I thought I had the strength to make the rip tide, made it across, climbed some ropes of a yacht, hoisted myself out, using a dinghie as a step ladder, and headed out for the street.
Then I walked along in the dead silence (it was four in the morning) looking for a number "4".
A pick-up truck was coming slowly down the road, so I flagged it down in case I needed help.
The pick-up truck refused to stop (this is the USA!), but then they came back, and it was two girls who said they were afraid of me, because I looked "really weird", they said, half-naked in the street at four in the morning, barefoot and dripping and bleeding, and they thought I was a drug addict, although, they admitted, "you don't look dangerous."
I, wet and barefoot, said I would hazard to guess that was probably a fair estimation.
They let me jump into the back of their pick-up, drove me a block or two until I found a "four" that had a for-sale sign outside (the only other clue I remembered).
Then I tip-toed back in my friend's house.
I have to say it made me laugh. I love swimming!