I feel like I'm drowning. I'm panicked and nearly paralyzed. The current is like a tractor chained to my ankles, pulling me down into a snare of submerged timber or undercut rocks. My white fingertips have to give up any grip. The cold water tightens my neck muscles, wrenching my head back and opening my mouth. Water seeps in. I lunge, arcing my body skyward through the rushing bubbles for a gulp of air. But the current wins. The river sucks me under. It isn't a violent yank - more like a bear hug that pulls me away from the sky, which fades from metallic silver, to lead gray, to brown. Fortunately for me, the other side of the experience was still in this world. It was all a drill, an exercise in a three-day whitewater-rescue course photographer Tim Romano and I took through Dvorak Expeditions at the peak of spring runoff on Colorado's Arkansas River, as the current raged at 2,300 cubic feet per second. We figured the tricks, rope knots, rigs, and rescue techniques might just save our butts someday. But our education came at a price. We left bruised and bloodied, having free-swum "The Numbers" rapids, flipped and righted rafts, and thrown ropes until our hands turned raw. When it was over, one lesson was burned in: You don't want to find yourself in a river-rescue situation. Not ever. Still...stuff happens. So, here's exactly what to do when it does.