“I know, I know,” Dirty said. “But don’t worry, you can hold on all the way to the other side if you want to.”
“And then what?”
“Well, there’s a tree on the other side where the cable’s attached. You can either catch yourself on the trunk or jump off right when you reach the shore.”
“That’s insane,” I said. “If I don’t bail off into the lake and drown, I’m going to crash into the tree.”
“Well, you could jump on land if you want to.”
“That’s a pretty high wire,” I said, near the contraption of reference.
“Let’s just go watch some other people and you can decide from there.”
I accompanied Dirty over to the zip-line platform and observed half a dozen other kids taking part in the activity. They were clearly having fun. Once the pulley system was drawn back to the platform, the next person in line would grab hold of the handle grips and step off the planks. They would slide at a sharp decline toward the large lake and then let go of the handle grips half way down the zip-line. After splashing into the lake, the kids were seen swimming to the opposite shore. Wearing a lifejacket was mandatory, regardless of the age or swimming skills of the Scout. Dirty eagerly got into line and I hesitantly stood behind him.
“Man, I don’t know about this,” I said to Dirty, as I watched several other kids zip-line down into the lake ahead of us.
“Don’t be a pussy.”
“I’m not a pussy,” I said to Dirty while waiting in line. “I can’t fuckin’ swim.”
“You’ll get a lifejacket.”
“A lifejacket isn’t going to help me swim,” I pointed out.
“You can dog paddle can’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, the lifejacket will keep you floating,” Dirty said. “Just dog paddle to shore. It’s not the far off—maybe like twenty feet.”
“I don’t know, man. I’ve been through this shit before. I damn near drown several times when I was younger.”
“Well, choose for yourself,” Dirty stated. “But I’m going for it. I’ll see you at the other side—unless you’re too much of a pussy.” Dirty was next in line. After placing on a lifejacket he stepped up and quickly snagged the handle grips of the pulley system. Without any delay, he bailed off the wooden platform and soared down the zip-line. Moments later, Dirty released the handle grips and fell into Scout Lake. I stood on the platform in trepidation as the pulley system was retrieved back to the supervising staff members.
I was offered a lifejacket and hesitantly placed it over my torso. A few moments later, the pulley system reached my position and the camp staff instructed me to hold on until I was well above the water, as it was unsafe to release the handle grips too early, due to the fact that one might careen into the forested shoreline down below. I looked down from the platform and saw a collection of bed mattresses laid across some of the tree stumps that were left behind after the launching area had been cleared. Several moments passed and I realized that I was taking far too long to jump off the planks. Dirty had already made it to the opposite side of the lake and was seen waving at me, cursing, and taunting me from afar.
Mustering my courage, I grasped hold of the handle grips and ran the short distance off the wooden platform rather than merely stepping off the edge. “Ooooooh Shiiiii-iiiiiit!” The zip-line dipped slightly under the stress of my body weight and I saw the surrounding trees whiz past me in a flash. Seconds later, I was above the surface of Scout Lake. The tree that secured the other end of the zip-line was fast approaching and I quickly decided to take my chances with drowning rather than smashing into its trunk. Releasing the handle grips, I fell into the water. I immediately felt something tugging at my legs once I broke through the surface of the lake but proceeded to dog paddle in a frantic manner toward shore, the lifejacket providing the majority of my buoyancy. Panicking, I followed the sound of Dirty’s cursing voice toward land.
Once reaching the muddy lakeshore, I looked back at who or what was seemingly pulling on my legs from the depths of the waters. I discovered some lengthy marsh plants wrapped around my calves, seemingly having been uprooted from my flailing legs.
“See, it was fun, wasn’t it?” Dirty asked me, while helping me stand.
“Dude, them plants tried to kill me,” I said.
“I felt that shit too,” Dirty commented. “It freaked me out for a little bit.”
“I told you I ain’t no pussy.”
“I know, I was just fuckin’ with you,” Dirty said. “That was pretty brave of you to do that without knowing how to swim. Good job.”
“Thanks. Let’s go catch some bugs now. Fuck this shit.”
Soggy and stinking like lake scum, Dirty and I spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding the other scheduled activities and isolated ourselves away from the troop. We occupied our time by hiking through the surrounding mountainsides, capturing butterflies in the forest glades, turning over stones in search of beetles, and sweeping the bushes for bugs.
On our walk back to camp, I stopped to bust a dook in one of the many outhouse units found amongst the trails. While inside the confines of the small restroom, Dirty climbed a large tree that was found growing along the forested path. He scaled across a lengthy limb and began dropping sticks down the exhaust vent of the outhouse unit that I was squatting in. As the seconds ticked by, Dirty began dropping sequentially larger items down the exhaust vent until he had finally clogged it. His laughter could be heard momentarily. Then it stopped altogether.
After pinching off a fecal loaf, I stepped outside the outhouse unit and found Dirty sprawled across the crux of the tree that he had climbed. His legs were straddling the bifurcated trunk, his body contorted in a bizarre position.
“Come on, man,” I said to my devious friend. “It’s getting dark and I’m hungry. We need to make it back to camp.”
Dirty moved his mouth in a speaking motion but no words were uttered.
“Seriously, man, stop messing around,” I said. “We need to go.”
Dirty moved his arms slowly in an attempt to push his body away from the tree trunk. He appeared weak and was unable to dislodge himself from the crux of the tree. I began to realize that he was hurt.
“Dude, are you okay?” I asked, walking closer to him. “What the hell happened?”
“I… fell,” Dirty mumbled.
I assessed the situation and determined that Dirty had fallen from the upper branches of the tree from where he was positioned while busily clogging the exhaust vent of the outhouse unit. He landed in the crux of the tree, straddling a large limb between his legs. “Damn, dude… can you get down?”
“It… hurts… bitch.”
I set my collecting equipment on the ground and proceeded to help Dirty out of the tree. He moaned, holding his crotch. “Did you smash your sack or what, man?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“I don’t know…” Dirty replied. “I can’t feel anything.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need some help,” Dirty stated.
“Okay, can you walk?”
“No,” Dirty replied, hunching over and clutching his stomach.
“Alright, sit down here and I’ll go get somebody.” I helped Dirty sit down on a nearby bench and then I ran off to the First Aid Area. After finding the on-duty staff member, I ran back with him to where I had left my wounded friend. Together with the staff member’s aid, we helped Dirty limp back to