crossing and crocodile

I was driving up a hill and, at the crest, my car came to rest, balancing precariously. The hill was so steep that the car was stuck, see-sawing on top. I left the car and carried on the journey on foot, walking through shallow rock pools, avoiding anything that looked to be dangerous. Soon, I came to a crossing. The police had organised a barricade and were directing traffic across and around it. Still on foot, I reached the front of the queue from where I could see into a deep pit filled with water. One policeman instructed people at the top of the pit, and a second policeman stood on a platform inside the pit, helping people across. A crocodile repeatedly jumped up, out of the water, snapping at the heels of those passing overhead. The first policeman told me that I would have to jump as far as I could, and trust that the second policeman would catch me and help me travel safely to the other side. While I waited for the right moment, the crocodile was leaping ever closer, his mouth gaping wide. I could see that he had no teeth, and his mouth was shaped more like a strange fish. The first policeman grabbed one of my bare feet and held it above the crocodile, teasing it. It was too close for my liking and I struggled free. While the first policeman was busy directing the next people in line, I jumped, without warning, and landed lightly in the arms of the second policeman, the crocodile snapping at me all the while. I was delivered safely onto the other side of the pit, with the crocodile still leaping up out of the water, trying frantically to catch me and eat me.