I alluded to this incident once in an earlier thread but I may as well elaborate a bit.
Summer of 2000 and I had just hit Lake Erie with my latest Rice Hauler. A 2000 Single Step Top Gun.
I have a date with me and I am hoping to impress her and everyone else within eyesight with my matching cig shirt, swim shorts, windbreaker, shoes, towels, key floaters, etc. and oh yeah the boat too.
We head out to one of the major performance hot spots on Lake Erie's kelly's Island. The Casino Restaurant. The Casino has it's own boat basin and the front row is reserved only for Offshore performance boats. This is only my second or third time there but I am one of the newest Cig's and so nattily attired in matching shirt, shorts, and shoes, that they dock us up right in front with The outdoor tiki bar and restaurant looking down not 5 feet above us onto the GLEAMING nose of my newest expression of virility and boating prowess. At 5'8" and 170lbs. wet (yes this all is leading somewhere) I am a STUD as I cooly follow my date and walk off the boat and onto the dock.
I spend a relaxing day discussing the virtues of EVERYTHING Cigarette. She spends the day wishing I would just shut up already. As the afternoon wanes on I am sure that everyone within earshot now believes that I bleed Cig red and black, and could captain a boat to the moon if I so desired.
I decide that it is time to head for home and round up my date and as the assembled cocktail hour throng of people watch and listen,(it seemed like there were at least a couple of hundred there) I cooly tell her that proper boating etiquette DEMANDS that we walk across the other 2 two boats swim platforms that we are rafted too and then onto our waiting TOP GUN.
I casually follow her scantily clad bottom and instruct her to hand me the stern line.......
The next thought that I had was that the water was unusually cold and clear and I wonder to myself if anyone saw me go in. Hopfully not. Maybe I could just hold my breath underwater until they close for the night? Who would be the wiser. As I contemplate the relative merits of drowning vs. crawling out I unfortunately float to the surface and one of the attentive Dock Jocks reaches in and hauls me out to the uproar of the crowd and my date.
You really cannot leave quick enough after a stunt like that with all your coolness and panache washed off and lying at the bottom of the lake. The cold water squelching in your shoes and your shirt and windbreaker sticking to you. But the worst part is that at least once a year someone mentions that they were there and that it was one of the funniest things that they have ever seen. I just try and agree and hope that by next season they will have all forgotten.