Last night, after the friend I was visiting went to sleep, I decided to go jump in the canal for a last 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 pitch black water.
And I am caught in a cross current! I swim and swim, against the swirl, finally reach the side, but it's nothing I recognize, no pier, just dark shadowy palms and darker houses. And I can't even get out of the water, as there is no ladder, until I figure out to use the ropes of a boat, heave myself up a wall, and, scratching my knees, throw myself out on the grass.
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, nothing.
I thought about swimming up and down, one side and then another, until I recognized something--in a pitchblack 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 meditated awhile, decided not to risk it, climbed the twenty foot wooden fence of this mansion (quick decision: no choice), jumped down the other side, landed on the gravel, and then walked barefoot in a bikini up and down the street, to see if I could figure out what side of the canal I was on.
I knew only that my friend's house number was an "even number" that ended with four.
No need to panic, I thought, as if I could not find it, I could sneak back out to a yacht and sleep on the deck , (unfortunately in a wet bathing suit) but not get too sick as it was warm outside.
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: this is the US), jumped back in the water, assessing first whether I thought I had the strength to make the rip tide (a stoic decision), made it to the other side, grabbed 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", which was kind of fun.
One 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 US), 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.
But they let me jump into the back of their pick-up ("I guess you're not too threatening," one said.
"I would hazard not," said I, wet arms dripping), 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!