Leap of Faith
College for me was a time of uncertainty. I went into it as a headstrong kid from a small town determined to make my mark. As with any on-campus housing on a Saturday night, there is usually more than one party happening concurrently. This lends to a very open-air social atmosphere, allowing partygoers to float from apartment to apartment. Needless to say, four hours and five apartments had taken its toll on me, but I was in a good place.
How quickly things can change. Since it was past midnight and some people actually value sleep, the door had been closed, but people would just come and go as they pleased. Because of that, a hush fell over the party when a loud knock came to the door. Closer inspection from the peephole by someone prompted a shrill cry of “It’s the police!” Here I was 18, drunk, in an apartment full of beer and other assorted contraband, and there was also this guy passed out on the couch, but for all I knew he was dead.
Another loud pounding on the door, this time followed by a deep voice, “Open up!” By now I was the best mix of drunk and awake that my body could give. I would think of a way out of this. I quickly noticed someone out on the porch. Even if there were cops outside I stood a better chance running out in the open then cramped in a two bedroom apartment. I made a quick, gazelle-like move out the sliding glass door. One hand on the railing and I was up and over, bound for freedom. Or so I thought.
I didn’t realize every other party had been on the ground floor except this second floor party. This porch was actually a balcony. I recognized this as I was all the way over the railing and had just removed my hand. My eyes met mid-air, with the guy on the balcony. He had the most dumbfounded look on his face, and all I could think was, “What’s this guy’s problem?”
Then I fell and landed on a bush like a sack of potatoes, flattening it. I shook out my arms and legs; my hip hurt but nothing seemed to be broken. I glanced back up to the balcony, and the guy said to me, “Are you OK?” I only raised my hand to acknowledge him and then hurriedly hobbled home. I didn’t even take my shoes off before sinking into bed exhausted, bruised, but at least not in jail.
My roommate saw me the next morning and woke me to see if I was OK. “Yeah, of course, I’m fine,” I told him. “Are you sure? What the hell happened to you?” I realized I was covered in dirt, and there were loose leaves all over my bed and stuck to my clothes. I also had several large scratches on my arms and face, and some dried blood with bit of leaves and dirt stuck to it. The walk to the shower was a march of death; pain burning with each step.
The aftermath could have been equally bad had I not kamikazed off the balcony. Back at the party, the police issued 16 MIP’s (minor in possession for all you straight laces out there), and the residents of the apartment were kicked out for a completely different type of possession (and I don’t mean the devil). If there’s one thing this entire ordeal taught me, it’s this: When you don’t look before you jump, you’re eventually going to land on your ass.
- submitted by anonymous
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