It happened 35 years ago.
I was fishing from my 18 ft Crestliner with a good friend and his much younger brother-in-law.
The young lad, Sean, was on vacation from England, and we decided to take him fishing near Windermere in Ontario, Canada.
It had been an eventful day already; three hours earlier we had drawn the boat close to shore. Being still possessed of a crate full of androgens, I drew the boat near to some young girls sunning themselves on the beach.
“Boy, was I going to look good!” I thought, as I prepared to dive into the water; I took up a position on the rear of the boat, and although I wanted to appear macho I decided to take a sitting posture on the rail, before I took the plunge.
I then looked around, like an over stuffed peacock, to ensure that there was a reasonable audience; then I took the ever-so-graceful lean towards the water. I was right, the water did feel refreshing, and refreshing, and refreshing…..But I wasn’t able to surface!! My head remained submersed but my butt stayed dry.
What was happening?
I realised in an instant that my bathing suit was caught on a boat cleat! My head was stuck underwater, and the anti gravitational pull of the cleat on my swimmers left me dangling there.
Now picture this, and make a decision; should I continue inhaling lake water, or should I attempt to wriggle out of my bathing suit in front of ALL those admirers?
My engorged lungs urged me towards the latter. I envisioned the site of my naked derriere as it would appear from the shore, bobbing unceremoniously, like a pale putty cork!!
My ego was busted, and it was decision time. But fate smiled on me as my shorts gave a relieving “R.R.R.R.RIP,” and I spluttered into the depths.
To this day I don’t think I ever heard any applause from the gathered beach crowd; I just revved up the motor and we disappeared around the next headland.