Growing up in the late ’80s, quicksand felt like a real problem. Not a theoretical danger. Not a remote possibility. A real problem. TV made it seem like every wooded area, every creek bed, every sandbox at the park had at least a 40 percent chance of swallowing you whole.
Cartoons were the worst offenders. One minute a character was walking through the jungle, the next minute they were sinking dramatically while yelling “HELP!” in a voice that suggested this was a weekly occurrence. Movies did it too. Any adventure film worth its salt had a scene where someone stepped in the wrong patch of dirt and immediately began descending like they had offended the earth itself.
As a kid, this felt like important information. A survival skill. Something to prepare for. I didn’t know how taxes worked, but I knew to avoid suspicious puddles.
Every patch of mud looked guilty. Every creek bank looked like a trap. Even the playground mulch seemed like it might be waiting for the right moment to take me out. I’d poke the ground with a stick like a tiny explorer, testing for danger. If the stick sank even a little, that was it, quicksand confirmed. Time to alert the neighborhood.
And the escape techniques? I had those memorized. Don’t struggle. Lean back. Spread out your weight. Call for help. I was ready. I was trained. I was nine.
Then adulthood arrived, and with it a shocking realization: quicksand is not a daily threat. It is not even a yearly threat. It’s barely a threat at all unless you’re living in an action movie or wandering through a swamp with poor decision‑making skills.
All that childhood preparation, all that fear, all that stick‑poking reconnaissance ended up being completely unnecessary.
But honestly? A little part of me misses it. There was something thrilling about believing the world was full of dramatic dangers. Something exciting about thinking any walk in the woods could turn into a full‑blown rescue mission. Something kind of wonderful about being a kid who took cartoons way too seriously.
Quicksand never got me. It never even tried. But it sure kept me on my toes.
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I actually had a very real fear of quicksand as a kid and remember walking out into a swampy area of a lake while we were camping. The ground slowly started to give way under me and I panic-trudged my way back to shore. I don’t think there was any real danger there, but I was suddenly in the mindset of Neverending Story or Princess Bride!!