I’ve been fortunate enough to have what some might call a “real” adventure. And more than once. These are the memorable ones, made more so by cutting it pretty close, not intentionally of course, but too close for comfort anyway. It’s only days later that the mind, and here I’m speaking for myself, goes into a “review, recollect and try to make sense of it all process” and decides that you had no business being there, doing that. — hang gliding over enemy air space being an example of this, which by the way I have not done. But you did other imprudent things and are secretly glad of it, sometimes even proud, and through every (as opposed to no) fault of your own, now have a real story to tell the grandkids — provided you behave, amend your ways and make it that long.
In this article, I didn’t mention that, unlike Mike, I wasn’t wearing a life jacket. That’s because I never thought I’d be ejected unceremoniously from my own boat, but that’s how accidents happen most of the time, unceremoniously I mean, and then you get to be mentioned, along with many other idiots into the long list of candidates for that year’s Darwin Awards. As I understand it, that particular award now has lots of categories, one of them being the “dumbest thing ever imaginable over water” award. I could easily have made runner up on this one. But I lived, so I was spared the postmortem embarrassment.
Here is the link: Denton Record Chronicle.
m