I knew
roughly where the drop-off was, and had a
general idea where the that waist deep to chest deep Goldilocks zone was.
I was sitting on the sandbar drinking a beer when I spotted a late arriver swimming into that zone. I had to go ambush splash him. Why? Dunno. Just had to.
Welp.
I hit the water, tried to stand, found nothing under my feet but more water. I had just dun goofed.
Panic is a strange thing. My body was, I guess, trying to swim...or fly...or reaching out for something to hold onto. I dunno. I didn't have control over my movement. My mind seemed separate from it all, thinking to myself along the lines of "You fucking idiot."
I bobbed up and down a couple times before it felt like the down wasn't going to be followed by an up. I remembered Wile E. Coyote drowning just like this, bobbing three times, waving goodbye on the third before finally going under.
Next thing I know, my head's above water, gasping, and I'm getting pulled to the upturned roots of a mostly submerged tree. Grabbed hold for dear life, still feeling that lack of something solid beneath my feet...until I put my feet down. "Oh. There it is." Dumbass.
Buddy of mine noticed me missing, looked around, and saw what looked like a "black squid" on top of the water. Said he dove in, had to fight against the current to get to me, then had to swim towards the bank with one arm while dragging 180 pounds of uncooperative asshole by the hair. I dunno if it was quite that dramatic and heroic, but that's how he described it to me.
We got a good laugh out of it. Told me if I ever cut my hair, I'd better learn to fucking swim. I'm still surprised he didn't let the water have me so he could take my share of the beer.