Feeling a bit waterlogged

I had promised a column on how I’ve finally come to grips with the fact that I’m at heart a redneck. That will come next week, but now, a breaking report on one of the dumber things I’ve ever done.
I went swimming.

I know, it’s not that bad. It’s what I went swimming with that is bad.

Rhonda Simmons’ column last week about learning to swim inspired me. After reading it, I had to get in the water. (OK, Simmons, did I plug your column enough, where’s my five bucks?) So, after golfing Friday morning with my father in law, he and I headed over to my wife’s pap’s house, where she and her mom were already sunbathing.

Sarah’s pap passed away a few months ago, but his legacy lives on with his pool. Sarah’s mom and dad have been at the pool almost every day this summer, and now look like they work on the Love Boat. They have great tans, not that they’ve gone bald like Capt. Stubing.

But I digress. Sarah’s dad and I made lunch and took it over. I made a few phone calls before going, but didn’t think anything of it. I stuck my phone back in my pants pocket like I always do — only my pants were also my swim trunks.

I think you see where this is going.

After lunch, I waited 15 minutes — watch out for those cramps, kiddos — and jumped into the pool. I had a great time swimming, lounging, just floating on a raft. That was, until I slid off the raft.

My right hand hit the side of my leg and I felt it. That little 1.2-pound lump that had everyone’s phone numbers in it, some great Pittsburgh pictures and my “Come Sail Away” ringtone.

Don’t judge.

I flipped open the phone and water poured out of it like waves over the edge of the Titanic. I, too, felt myself sinking. No one to blame, only myself.

Just a year before, Sarah’s dad left his cell phone in his pants pocket at the beach and Sarah’s mom then washed it. I had joked this year that I was going to wash mine so work couldn’t get a hold of me while I was on vacation — now, still without a phone, I will not be able to be reached while at the beach this year.

Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve left something in my pocket and then had water ruin it. About 10 years ago I went on a tubing trip down the Clarion River with a bunch of my friends.

We had a great day, just floating along, telling stories and laughing. We were all on a bunch of inner tubes that had holes in the middle, and I had refused to leave my keys tucked in the fender of my car. They’ll be fine tied to my pants by the lanyard, I told anyone who would listen.

As usual, I was wrong.

At one point, I dipped down in the water to cool off and didn’t realize my key chain slipped away.

Somewhere, on the bottom of the Clarion River sits a keychain, probably waving from the currents, as it’s weighed down by 12 pounds of keys.

The worst was my then-girlfriend bailed on me and left me with three of my fraternity brothers, wet, cold and huddling together for warmth as the sun set. My dad, luckily only an hour away, was able to arrive with my spare keys quickly, but I lost the keys to my apartment, so we had to bust the door in.

So as I sat on the edge of the pool last Friday, I had flashbacks of that ill-fated canoe trip and shivered.

All I know is, when I go to the beach this week … make sure to keep all electronic devices away from me.