Reminds me of my younger days hunting the Delta, Louisiana side.
We took a friend of my Dad's hunting one morning. He was an Air Force NCO recently posted to Louisiana and had no experience with our gumbo mud. We were walking in the marsh and stopped to rest. In that mud, when we made a rest stop every hundred yards or so, we'd find a clump of grass to stand on. Dad called a halt and he an I found a grass clump and stood there. The NCO walked up between us and stood without finding a clump. As we stood there, he kept getting shorter and shorter, and Dad finally stepped off his clump and started walking. Our friend tried to take a step, swayed like a tree, and fell flat on his back. He went "smooth out of sight" in the water and came up spluttering.
We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He didn't think it was very funny, but he got over it.
Several years later, that man introduced me to single malt scotch. He's been a good family friend for many years.