Wuss Factor

Part of being a guestroom nomad is making friends with the natives. Last week during spring break Gwen and Graham wanted to go shoot a BB gun and I asked if they new any out of the way wooded areas nearby that would be safe. Gwen did.

What she failed to mention that to get to this nature trail we had to cross a little creek. I've seen many just like it. Locals were fishing on either bank. The creek was about 20 feet wide and probably only 5 feet deep in the middle. But of course there was no way to cross this thing nearby like a bridge or catapult. Nope, all there was was a large rusty pipe that emerged from the bank on one side of the creek and disappeared into the other. The pipe is like three feet in diameter.

Did I forget to mention this pipe is like 10 or 15 feet above the water? Well it was. When we get to the "bridge" there is a kid sitting in the middle fishing. He hops up and get out of the way like it's no big deal and Gwen and Graham skip across to the other side like they are walking on a sidewalk. I hesitate, then slowly panic internally trying to hold onto a calm exterior.

Ok so you are asking yourself, what's the big deal? It's just a pipe, walk across. But the geometry of this perfect cylinder got to me. I knew there was no level surface to walk on. It was all curved! There is no flat plan on a circle! Every foot I put down either had to be directly in the middle of the pipe which made me walk like a tightrope walker. Or I had to accept that the angle of the circle was running out beneath my foot and walk normally. Both feet angled different directions.

In the 10 seconds it took my cohorts to cross the pipe of death I played out 100 scenarios. Should I call them back? Should I cross? If I cross will I fall? If I fall will my cellphone survive? If I fall will I fall to one side or will I first land on my groin? My brain was working against me, I had an extensive collection of geometry, physics and America's Funniest Home Videos to draw from in my databanks.

They cross and look back, I can see they are exhilarated by their little brush with danger. And they are starting to laugh (along with like 12 Hispanic kids who are fishing nearby) because I'm walking 4 inches at a time both feet facing the same direction. I did this because I didn't want to have to lift one foot off the pipe and cross it over the other foot, I was shuffling along. Graham and Gwen took turn encouraging and laughing at me.

Anyway the kids are laughing and I'm like 1/3 across. And there is an unexpected obstacle. There is a little outlet valve that juts up in my path. I'll have to step over. I've given up trying to be cool, my knees are knocking. The mother with her fishing kids shushs them because they are being rude but their sudden silence seems to place more pressure on me. She is shushing them because she knows I'm scared and that I might fall. This is bad, because until now I was the only person who thought I was going to fall and now I had a second opinion.

"I'd like to raise a motion that Trey fall in the drink and embarrass himself."
"Second!"

That was the real problem, embarrassment. I can swim like a sea lion. I have fallen from higher places. I've climbed ladders and worked in theatrical rigging a hundred feet higher and over harder surfaces. But I wasn't afraid then. I have wondered why. The difference in those time is I had something to grab with my hands. I have a knee injury that never lets me trust putting weight on my knee, I've learned to really trust my mighty ropy strong arms and hands. Not my knobby prone-to-abandon-me knees. But what I was afraid of was not injury it was the fear of looking like an idiot. And it was the fear of fear. Anyway back to the story.

I take a deep breath and pray, literally pray that I make it across safely, and step over the giant obstacle of the outlet valve in my path (the valve was probably 2 inches tall). I really want to credit God with quelling my panic because after the nubbin in the path I began to walk facing forward foot over foot and made better time. I even got my head together enough to say, "I feel like I'm on fear factor!" Which Gwen and Graham (and the 12 Hispanic Fishers and their madre) thought was funny. When they laughed I smiled and before I knew it I was on the other other side. It felt good to be alive.

Gwen and Graham tried to give me grief but I just said, "But I made it!" They didn't understand that it was a victory for me even if it wasn't pretty. Besides their teenage brains have fully developed. The last thing to formalize in the brain is a sense of the reality of danger. This is why young men make good soldiers. They have a fully formed body but can take risks older people wouldn't. But I had survived my encounter with the pipe of death.

Yes, it turns out I'm a wuss, I was as surprised as you.