All great adventures have a beginning. Though one might spend years preparing for a journey, the day will come when they shoulder their pack and take a step out the door. It is difficult to say when our adventure together actually began, but this story may be one of our first steps.
It was a Friday night, a sleepover at Josh’s. The Showbiz room promised us a night of freedom and we wanted to make the most of it. So of course, we began the night goofing off on the internet. Wandering into a Mormon chat room, we spent some time harassing Mollymormon86 and beehivejust4u. PJ got his hands on the keyboard and was explaining to a confused audience how he was an indentured servant from Peru. A few strikes of revelation later and llama strings were invented. A legend was born.
As the night wore on, we tired of tormenting innocent girls online, so we began to explore the room. Venturing up into the attic, we stumbled upon someone that would become a dear friend throughout the coming years. The Bear.
When the clock struck one, we felt it was safe to venture outside into the darkness of the night. With us we carried a sack of TP and the courage of men facing their first special op. We meandered down Santa Clara, thinking that we were cleverly masking our secret intentions. (Obviously a group of boys cloaked in black, carrying big sacks of who knows what, strolling down the street in the middle of the night, have nothing but pure motives). We took a right on Allegheny and bee-lined it for the bushes. The target was now in sight. Slowly we crept towards Malan’s house. A few test rolls told us that it was not safe to proceed with our plans. The road was too busy, and they had a light on. Some quick thinking by Josh promised to save the night, so we continued our journey several blocks south and made an assault raid on Keith Lancaster’s house. This also proved to be too great a risk, so we launched a hail mary of rolls over the house and down the sloping roof to the back yard. We returned to our safe house with heads hanging low. Our mission had failed.
After discussing our frustrations, it became clear that we would not allow ourselves to give up so easily. With llama strings in our pockets and our new-found friend to guide us, we once again slipped out the back door into the stillness of the night. Our new target: the Goodmans.
Scouts were sent out and the coast was clear, so we proceeded to unleash our downpour of cascading paper. We made quick work of it. Suddenly, lights flashed around the corner and we all dropped to the ground. Slipping into shadows we eyed the car, looking for lights mounted on the roof. It was clean, and soon turned the corner, disappearing as silently as it had come, like a phantom in the night. After several moments of tense breathing, we emerged and resumed our symphony in white. Without warning the phantom reappeared. With blinding lights it pinned us to our crime. Like rabbits we scattered, each man running for his life.
It is in moments like this when reason fails us. And it is precisely for that reason that I made for the safe house instead of taking cover. The phantom found its target. I ran like an enemy of the state, the car gaining ground by the second. As I strained every muscle in my body to fly like the wind, I could see the shine of the headlights slowly creeping up at my sides, almost overtaking me. In the split second before I was engulfed in light I darted to the left, cutting across the landscaping, and diving behind a bush in Josh’s front yard. Light from the car shined across the front of the house just inches above my head… and then slowly it move on. I had lost them.
I lay there in darkness for what seemed like a lifetime, not willing to risk another surprise attack. Eventually I made my way back inside the safe house. The rest of the boys trickled in over the course of the hour. With slaps on the back and full faced grins we recounted our separate tales of victory and escape. As the clock struck three, we reluctantly prepared for sleep. The memories of the night lingered as we closed our eyes, and were relived over and over again in our dreams; the first sweet taste of success.
And so it was that we took our first step out the door, on a journey that would carry us to places unimaginable.
1 comment:
This night made us who we are today. I am proud that I was a part of it.
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