My one shining moment came at age 9:
Our middle school miraculously found funding to send the fifth-graders and their teachers out to a nearby State Park for Outdoor Education. We packed for five days, and assembled into dormitories on the premises, where we were met by counselors.
Counselors were selected from among volunteers at high school. Our particular group was a bunch of dweebs who seemed to relish their authority, and quickly instilled an aura of boot camp at the site. This included dropping campers for pushups as punishment for ‘infractions,’ speaking to them in that military voice many of us have come to know all too well, and marching them back and forth from playtime, lunch, and classes. As a result, the fifth-graders developed a considerable fear of the counselors, myself especially so.
On Wednesday, after the counselors had hazed us into bed for the evening, I suddenly had to piss as badly as if I had ingested Seaworld. I got out of bed, ran over to the staircase, and as I looked out over the rail, across the gymnasium-sized building, I saw…
Counselors.
Three of them, milling in front of the restroom door, certainly with malice in mind. I would surely have to drop and give them at least 20 for the privilege of draining my pre-pubescent weasel, maybe even 30 if they hadn’t run across any other fifth-graders to torture that night.
As I contemplated my biceps, and began to flex to assess my stamina, my bladder responded by forcing me to double over to avoid losing it right there by the stairs.
By now panicked, I glanced back across the bunkhouse to notice that the counselors hadn’t seen me yet. As I whirled around to assess my options, I knew I wouldn’t even make it to the restroom in time to unload, much less submit to the impending PT.
The clock on the wall read 2:30 when I noticed a corner spot between the two groups of bunks, only 15 short feet or so away. At the bottom of this architectural anomaly was a hole, square and about 8 inches wide.
I retreated from the balcony as if I had been shot in my package, and shortly thereafter, I was astride the hole in the corner, and ready to let fly.
And let fly I did. I estimate I lost roughly a quarter of my total body weight into that hole, and when I was done, 90 seconds later, I went back to bed and slept the blissful sleep of kings, presidents and returning war heroes.
The news of my calamity had not hit the general population until lunch the next day, when afterwards Mr. Eckley, another fifth-grade teacher (not mine) and a field-grade officer in the Oregon National Guard, pulled me aside quietly and asked if I had had an “accident” the night before.
I managed to stammer out an affirmative, whereupon he informed me that his room was directly beneath that hole, and his sleeping bag was in dire need of a drycleaning, maybe two to get rid of the contents of my system from the night before. My parents would be billed for the drycleaning.
As I went into system shock, I still don’t know how I managed to stay standing, even three hours later. I vaguely remember my classmates gathering around me in various states of emotion, from “Ewwww…” to “Oh My GOD, dude! You pissed on Eckley! You. Are. AWESOME!”
The rest of fifth grade went by in a blur, and no further repercussions resulted from my incident.
At the end of the year, we were informed that Mr. Eckley would be retiring from teaching to pursue his dream of small business ownership; in this case, a Dairy Queen franchise in the booming metropolis of Tillamook, Oregon, known for its picturesque coastal location, and world-class dairy products.
I can neither confirm nor deny that I had anything to do with that decision.
Raise your voice. Shock the world.
Anyway, one time in the middle of August we were playing with magnifying glasses in the field behind his house. We were making little fires, but we knew they really wouldn’t spread because there were a lot of rocks. However, his mother apparently noticed the smoke and came running wildly towards us with a bucket of water, screaming at the top of her lungs. That was more amusing than it was stupid.