Thursday, August 7, 2014

Memoirs Of a Teen-Aged Idiot!

Went to visit an old high school friend the other day. It's been a while since we've sat and caught up with each other; most times we just see each other in passing and don't get to sit and reminisce, but we had a good visit. We talked about some of the crazy stuff we used to do as high school kids, some of which we probably shouldn't have survived.

I grew up south of Tupelo just off Highway 6 in a little community called Union/City Point. I don't guess anyone ever really decided what they wanted to name the place, because of the 2 names. The water tower announces the name as City Point but the churches say Union. Anyway, I lived in the Nettleton School District, so that is where we went to school. I spent most of my high school years riding the roads of northern Monroe County between Nettleton and Amory. Monroe County is a dry county, and we would be riding these back roads L-O-D-I-D! Lots of great ideas came from that intoxicated state, like the time my friend, Yo (we'll call him Yo to protect his identity, even though he would probably own up to it if he's reading this!), and I and a bunch of our "Bigbee Friends" decided it would be a great idea to climb over the railroad bridge that crosses the Tenn-Tom Waterway coming into Amory. And when I say climb over, I mean climb over the catwalk at the TOP OF THE TRUSSES of the bridge. At 1:00 in the morning. L-O-D-I-D. It was at the center of the top of this thing that I discovered my acute discomfort of heights. Yo said I was "cryin' like a little bitch," but I don't remember it being THAT dramatic. I do remember being a little worried and having to have help/guidance/reassurance getting down the ladder on the other side.

There was another time Yo and I made a smokes and drinks run into Amory during a late night get together. This was in February of 1994, I remember, because we had just had an ice storm that had collapsed the only bridge into Amory from Nettleton, taking with it the gas line that supplied all of Tupelo's restaurants with gas to use the fryers and such. Well, at this time, the bridge had been "repaired" (and by repaired I mean patched, and not very convincingly to the untrained eye) and the gas line had been rerouted to the curb on the edge of the bridge that the concrete retainer wall was sitting on. Along this gas line were about 10 or 15 battery-powered, flashing yellow caution lights. Well, Yo and I decided we wanted one (actually all) of them, and as they were tied to the gas line with nylon cord, he started at one end and I at the other, with Bic lighters, burning through the nylon cord that attached each light to the GAS LINE!!! Luckily, no boom, but still.

We would lay in the back of someone pickup on Main St. in Amory, one friend pouring a Coke into our mouths, another pouring the Jack Daniels, then jump in our vehicles to haul @$$ home to beat curfew. Our absolute favorite place to drink was in a storm house of a neighbor. Grave yards were a popular place to drink, too.

We knew those back roads so well in those days we could drive them drunk at night with our lights off and never miss a turn. We would even do it with a car load of passengers to prove that we could! Those who lost their shit when we did were never invited back to hang out with us, not that they would want to.

I've been going back to these places the last few weeks, reliving my stupidity, wondering how in the HELL I'm still here.

As Yo and I were laughing about some of the things we did, I made a comment about how stupid it all was, "But damn, it sure was fun."

Yo's quick response was, "If it wasn't fun, it wouldn't have been a mistake. It would have been an accident."

Perspective. That's the key to really living.

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