Rapid Death
The canoe story reminds me... I once went whitewater rafting, in the Rio Jacare in Brazil. About half way down, the boats were stopped and we were led out to learn how to shoot a rapid without a piece of equipment that I had assumed to be essential: a boat. The technique mainly involves learning how to position your legs to prevent rocks slamming into your testicles.

When it was my turn, I assumed the position, and slid over the edge. There were some very busy seconds, then things calmed down and I assumed that I had passed over the main rapids. I waited to bob up to the surface.

And waited. And waited. Now drowning has always been a fear bordering on a phobia with me, but I was strangely calm as the seconds ticked by and I didn't reach the surface. I remember thinking, quite peacefully, that I hope I come up soon. But it seems I was caught in a vortex that was holding me under. The seconds ticked on, and my world was a tiny bubble of booming surf. I had no idea how deep I was, or which way was up.

Eventually one of the guides noticed that I hadn't appeared, and fished me out. It was probably a very short time, but it felt like hours. And no, my life didn't flash before my eyes.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 17:18, Reply)