What happened one night

On Monday, I explained a little about how there was nothing to do my hometown of Gatesville. This just sets the stage for all sorts of things to get into when you're a kid and you're bored. For example:

I went to a birthday party when I was in 8th grade one night. None of us kids could drive but we were too old to want to have our parents around so everybody got dropped off at the birthday girl's house. Her parents were gone too.

It was a pretty low turnout. I think there were only 8 of us in all with half girls and half boys. We were all friends though, because the town only had one school system and unless you failed a grade you saw the same kids year after year.

After standing around in her garage drinking punch off a card table and listening to music on a cassette player we decided en masse to blow the joint and go wandering around the neighborhood. No sooner than we had gotten to the end of the block when a truck with highschool guys pulls up right beside us and someone yells something from the window at us.

Then one of the girls in our group started shouting choice words back at them. What did the guys say? Memory fails me. Perhaps they called us "grooders" which was an insulting term we used in our hometown for underclassmen (kind of like "n00b"). Maybe they yelled out something about one of the girl's physical attributes. Whatever the case the conversation got ugly real fast with threats and cut-downs increasing from both sides.

Finally, C.W., one of the 8th grade boys, picked the girl up who was yelling and carried her on his shoulder away from the truck with her still kicking and screaming. Luckily, the highschoolers peeled out in their truck and the skirmish was over. C.W. wisely knew that the fight that the girls had started would probably end with us 8th grade boys taking a whooping from some rednecks in a truck.

Of course, this incident was not enough to deter us from continuing to wander the neighborhood. Soon we found a construction site with a 6 foot tall chainlink fence around it and a sign that said "Keep Out". So naturally we all clambered over the fence. I knew this was wrong and a bad idea but all self-control was gone since I was with peers and there was pressure. Yes, Mom, I would jump off a bridge if everyone else was doing it.

To our delight there were huge mounds of fine dirt at the construction site. They were kind of like sand dunes that you would see in a desert movie and they were about 15 feet high. All the guys clambered up them as well. The girls were too ladylike to get dirty by climbing them (although they had just climbed over a 6 foot fence) and they watched us from the ground. Us guys climbed to the top of the mounds where the rain had packed down the dirt (although the sides were crumbling and pretty tough to scale). Once on top we did what any 8th grade boy would do to impress a girl--we immediately began jumping off and landing knee deep in a pile of dirt 15 feet below. It was pretty scary but amazingly fun. You would think we were riding a slide at a waterpark because as soon as we would land at the bottom we would run around and climb up the side to get to the top again.

By this time the girls were bored and chatting to themselves when suddenly, Carl shouted from the top of the mound, "Hey, look everybody!" Carl then took a short run to the edge and did sort of an awkward trip at the end. It was clear that he was attempting a flip but he didn't make it all the way over and he landed 15 feet below flat on his back with a sickening thud.

"CARL!!!" one of the girls shrieked, which was just as disturbing. He laid so still I knew he was dead. In the next agonizing seconds we stood there, each on the edge of bolting. Then, a truly pathetic sound came from Carl. "oooooooooh" he said, and my heart started beating again. He just had the breath knocked out of him. We helped him up and slung his arms across our shoulders. Then we somehow managed to get our fallen comrade over the fence and we headed back to the house.

Usually, at this point I mention some kind of moral to the story. However, the only point I can think of is that we were stupid kids. Or perhaps that is redundant. Perhaps all kids lack good decision making skills. However, I knew at several times during that night that things were a bad idea, but then I chose to ignore my conscience.