As an older teen, I remember going to the lake one summer with my friends, watching them drinking beer at a picnic table near the shore, playing in the tepid water.
As the dusk approached my drunken friends decided to swim across a bay to a distant shore.
They set out, laughing and splashing. A couple of them were drunk enough that they just sprawled in inner tubes and let the other swimmers tow them along. Into the failing light. Across the dark water.
I waited at the shore.