CHAPTER TWO :: A JOURNEY BEGINS
Go Time
When one jumps into a body of water from the top of a tall tower, unexpected things can happen. Sadly, I know this from experience.
During the first week of my sophomore year in college, I went swimming at a quarry with friends, including my suitemates from the year before, Todd and Keith. If I had only learned one thing during my freshman year, it would have been that these guys never seemed to run out of ideas about fun things to do on a given day.
For my younger readers, hanging out with those two was like hanging out with Phineas and Ferb:I know what we are going to do today.
The quarry had a small beach-like area fronting a lake. Not too far out, in what turned out to be deep water, was a concrete tower that rose, I would guess, somewhere between 25 and 40 feet above the lake. My memory suggests it was closer to 40, but I don’t know for sure. The height of the tower in my memory might be like the length of the fish that was caught, but somehow continues to get longer as time passes and the story of the catch is retold.
When we arrived, we watched several kids climb up a metal ladder attached to the tower as other kids jumped from the top and into the water. It didn’t seem particularly tall or scary; it looked like fun.
A little more than halfway up the ladder, a rope hung down that you could grab to swing out over the water and drop in. The first time I climbed the ladder, I grabbed the rope, swung out, and let go. It felt like a trial run, of sorts. It was fun.
I swam back to the ladder and confidently began to climb.
When I got to the top and managed to get close enough to the edge to peek over, I realized that my confidence was suddenly missing in action. From the ground, I had vastly underestimated the full height of the tower.
Standing at the top, I recalibrated and saw that we were, by my new estimation, approximately 47,000 feet in the air. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I must have been aware it wasn’t that tall and that my mind was playing tricks on me. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if an airplane flew by, we’d be looking down at it.
The top of the tower was flat and formed a decent-sized platform. A couple of kids had brought lawn chairs and beer up the ladder and were making a day of it. One guy, perhaps with alcohol-fueled courage, did a double flip on the way down. Another kid did a handstand at the edge before taking the big plunge.
I, on the other hand, was thinking about how different the view had looked from the ground. The good news was thatall the kids who werejumping seemed to be surviving. The bad news showed up in a form that was actually far scarier than the drop itself.
Lightning.
One of those late-afternoon summer storms that seem to come out of nowhere was approaching. You’ve seen them: a bright blue sky in three directions and an ominous black sky in the fourth.
The storm was not far away and was closing fast. It occurred to me at that moment that I was the tallest guy, on top of a tall tower, above the trees, standing near a wet metal ladder, in the middle of a good-sized lake. I was soaking wet. In my mind, lightning had never seen a better target.
The fact that the