This could have ended badly

The other night on Letterman, Dave's guest was Samuel L. Jackson. Sam (I can call him that), told a rather amusing story about diving head-first into a river of uncertain depth. Then they both laughed about firecrackers blowing up in people's hands, and other activities that easily could have ended very badly. I often refer to such youthful antics as "stupid boy stuff." If I mention it in class, I'm sure to catch at least one male student drifting off into his recollections of something from the past that was either very dangerous, bordering on criminal, actually criminal, or some combination thereof. The kind of thing that could have ended badly.

But it really isn't exclusive to men. After all, I've got my own "this could have ended badly" tale that Letterman reminded me of. When a senior in high school, I fell one full story. I could have broken bones, become paralyzed, or suffered some other dreadful consequence, but fortunately I walked away with not even a scratch or bruise.

Tony, my boyfriend off and on during high school, was a year ahead of me. Once he graduated, he promptly got his own apartment on the second floor of a two-story house, with an exterior staircase. For obvious reasons, I had pretty strict restrictions on my being there, including never being there without my mother knowing. I don't recall what I was supposed to be doing, but my plan was to stop by for a brief visit. Who'd even know I was there if I didn't stay long.

Tony and I started goofing around, taunting each other, when he picked me up, carried me to the outside landing, and threatened to throw me over the railing. Next thing I know, I was falling. That slow motion feeling really happens. I still vividly remember the thoughts that raced through my mind on the way down: "That idiot dropped me! I'm going to die, and my mother will find out that I was here. If I don't die, my mom is going to kill me when she finds out. I don't think I can hide a broken arm or leg. This is going to hurt."

When the dust cleared, we discovered that the 2d story landing had dry-rotted and given way under our combined weight. Lucky for me, I fell on top of Tony. Lucky for Tony, he suffered only bruised ribs. Lucky for both of us, the only lasting consequence was having to endure the retelling of our fall over and over again by our friend across the street who saw the whole thing and was literally rolling on the ground laughing.

Tony was okay. I was okay. But this could have ended badly.