My Swimming Trunks Have Been Sucked Off -

The current was stronger than I’d anticipated. One second I was floating peacefully in the Aegean, the next I was being dragged toward a submerged vent on the seafloor of this tiny, forgotten Greek cove. It wasn't a whirlpool, exactly—more like a giant, thirsty mouth of rock, sipping the entire bay down into some subterranean river.

I was indeed squatting, a perfect catcher’s stance, hands clasped in front of me like a fig leaf woven by a desperate man. “Stretching. Important to stretch. Post-swim.” My Swimming Trunks Have Been Sucked Off

Panic is a funny thing. It doesn't make you rational; it makes you inventive . My first thought wasn't "swim to shore." It was "how do I retrieve my trunks from the plumbing of the planet?" I took a deep breath and dove. The current was stronger than I’d anticipated

As I wrapped the towel around my waist, I glanced back at the sea. The vent was still gurgling, still hungry. Somewhere down there, in a dark underwater cave, my pineapples and my marriage band were keeping company with Greek shipwrecks and Poseidon’s loose change. I was indeed squatting, a perfect catcher’s stance,