Stacy was a couple of years younger than me, which was a huge age gap back when I was about 11, but she lived just down the street from me in our small suburb of big Chicago, and somehow we became friends. Perhaps our friendship started one of the million times I roller skated on the sidewalk past her house in my freaky 80's sneaker-look roller skates (they looked
just like these, same exact colors even, oh my). I was convinced enough that I was going to be in the Roller Skate Olympics, or something, that I convinced her of the same.
We weren't best friends, but we were friends enough that I recall a sleepover watching
Friday Night Videosback when music videos were new and when most people didn't have cable or MTV yet (and when they did, MTV actually showed, um, music videos back in those olden times). Her family invited me on an outing to the beach once. Once. Stacy's parents were kind of young and were pretty laid back and cool, and it was good times, but it would be the last time they invited me anywhere.
We went to some beach in Indiana (not "
the Dunes," but that is another beach of my youth) that had a single water slide that landed right in the lake. It was huge and tall and way beyond cool. The ramp up to the top was all wooden, and the railings were also made of wood and designed kind of like a wooden fence with posts and a couple of pieces of wood horizontally in between them. Kind of like this, if a visual helps, but picture them diagonally headed up:
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(Did that help? Pretty high-tech, I know.)
At the very, very top was the platform from which you get on the slide, and just before that platform was the last part of the long ramp up to the top.
It was right there, at that very last step from ramp to platform, all the way at the very top that it happened, the accident that was truly just waiting to happen because what genius mind would think that a wet wooden ramp and a fence with plenty of space underneath to slip through to
deaththe ground very many feet below was a good idea? Surely it's not the same mind that's been removing my favorite playground equipment from parks in recent years to make them
boringso safe.
As I lost my footing and started to slip, Stacy reacted by trying to grab onto me, but by the time I'd slipped enough that I was literally hanging onto the wet walkway with my fingers with my scrawny and useless little arms fully extended, feeling like I was in some action movie dream because surely this could not be happening, I told her to let go because I knew that the inevitable was about to happen, and that she'd just be going down with me.
Everything went... not really black or white or anything, but just everything went... away. For awhile, I guess.
When I came to, I was laying on some rocks, and worried people were rushing toward me, some yelling orders to others and trying to sort out who I belonged to because surely I was badly injured. The looks on the faces of Stacy's parents were of sheer terror turned relief as I stood up, dusted myself off, noted some scratches on my arms and legs from the brushy bush that probably did nothing to break my fall but had left its mark anyway, and not one person (me included) could believe that I'd not only survived but hadn't broken something like my neck, ass or general whole body.
I still remember being really stiff and sore for a few days, but within a week, I was back to wearing those ridiculous looking sneaker roller skates, and cruising past Stacy's house. Her parents would kind of half smile and do a little wave, but they never, ever invited me to go anywhere ever again.
TAILS-Share a Summertime memory
Stacy was a couple of years younger than me, which was a huge age gap back when I was about 11, but she lived just down the street from me in our small suburb of big Chicago, and somehow we became friends. Perhaps our friendship started one of the million times I roller skated on the sidewalk past her house in my freaky 80's sneaker-look roller skates (they lookedjust like these, same exact colors even, oh my). I was convinced enough that I was going to be in the Roller Skate Olympics, or something, that I convinced her of the same.
We weren't best friends, but we were friends enough that I recall a sleepover watchingFriday Night Videosback when music videos were new and when most people didn't have cable or MTV yet (and when they did, MTV actually showed, um, music videos back in those olden times). Her family invited me on an outing to the beach once. Once. Stacy's parents were kind of young and were pretty laid back and cool, and it was good times, but it would be the last time they invited me anywhere.
We went to some beach in Indiana (not "the Dunes," but that is another beach of my youth) that had a single water slide that landed right in the lake. It was huge and tall and way beyond cool. The ramp up to the top was all wooden, and the railings were also made of wood and designed kind of like a wooden fence with posts and a couple of pieces of wood horizontally in between them. Kind of like this, if a visual helps, but picture them diagonally headed up:
|------------|------------|
At the very, very top was the platform from which you get on the slide, and just before that platform was the last part of the long ramp up to the top.
deaththe ground very many feet below was a good idea? Surely it's not the same mind that's been removing my favorite playground equipment from parks in recent years to make themboringso safe.As I lost my footing and started to slip, Stacy reacted by trying to grab onto me, but by the time I'd slipped enough that I was literally hanging onto the wet walkway with my fingers with my scrawny and useless little arms fully extended, feeling like I was in some action movie dream because surely this could not be happening, I told her to let go because I knew that the inevitable was about to happen, and that she'd just be going down with me.
Everything went... not really black or white or anything, but just everything went... away. For awhile, I guess.
When I came to, I was laying on some rocks, and worried people were rushing toward me, some yelling orders to others and trying to sort out who I belonged to because surely I was badly injured. The looks on the faces of Stacy's parents were of sheer terror turned relief as I stood up, dusted myself off, noted some scratches on my arms and legs from the brushy bush that probably did nothing to break my fall but had left its mark anyway, and not one person (me included) could believe that I'd not only survived but hadn't broken something like my neck, ass or general whole body.
I still remember being really stiff and sore for a few days, but within a week, I was back to wearing those ridiculous looking sneaker roller skates, and cruising past Stacy's house. Her parents would kind of half smile and do a little wave, but they never, ever invited me to go anywhere ever again.