T shouldn’t have even brought it up, but it was too late now, he could see that.
Because in his mind’s eye, his boss was already jumping.
Kevin pulls over and puts it in “park” on the side of the highway. Early afternoon on a bright summer day, there isn’t much traffic.
T looks at him.
“Well?” Kevin says, “We jumpin’ or what?”
T looks out his passenger window, out over the St. Croix River, the natural border between eastern Minnesota and western Wisconsin.
The official jump into the St. Croix River – just outside of Taylor’s Falls – is on the Wisconsin side.
Their work van is now on the side of the road in Minnesota.
“It’s over there,” T offers.
“What am I, made of money?," Kevin scoffs. "They charge $3 for parking over there!”
T shrugs. “So what, we’re gonna walk?”
Kevin opens the driver’s door.
“No,” he says, grinning. “We’re gonna swim.”
And he slams the door.
The jump off the cliff at Taylor’s Falls is, according to my brother Kevin, 59 feet and four inches. You must jump at least 15 feet out and away in order to clear the granite ledge, just two feet under the water’s surface.
Kevin is a man of experience and strange nunchuk ways. I never question his sources.
Five minutes later, bare-chested, their shirts folded and placed atop their shoes, they stand on the edge of the St. Croix.
“You first,” Kevin says.
And he pushes T into the water.
In hindsight, of course, the current of the river should’ve been taken into account before getting into the water.
Because it’s hard to swim straight across a river.
The story of The Swimming is best heard from the source. It involves wild gesticulation, shivering, and a graphic description – including a fascinatingly inappropriate visual aid – regarding the surprising difference between air temperature and the temperature of a rapidly flowing river.
So we’ll skip over that.
What I know for sure is that they jumped. They swam. And they lived.
And they were much more tired on the swim back to the van than on the original trip.
But this time, they took into consideration the current.
Because in his mind’s eye, his boss was already jumping.
Kevin pulls over and puts it in “park” on the side of the highway. Early afternoon on a bright summer day, there isn’t much traffic.
T looks at him.
“Well?” Kevin says, “We jumpin’ or what?”
T looks out his passenger window, out over the St. Croix River, the natural border between eastern Minnesota and western Wisconsin.
The official jump into the St. Croix River – just outside of Taylor’s Falls – is on the Wisconsin side.
Their work van is now on the side of the road in Minnesota.
“It’s over there,” T offers.
“What am I, made of money?," Kevin scoffs. "They charge $3 for parking over there!”
T shrugs. “So what, we’re gonna walk?”
Kevin opens the driver’s door.
“No,” he says, grinning. “We’re gonna swim.”
And he slams the door.
The jump off the cliff at Taylor’s Falls is, according to my brother Kevin, 59 feet and four inches. You must jump at least 15 feet out and away in order to clear the granite ledge, just two feet under the water’s surface.
Kevin is a man of experience and strange nunchuk ways. I never question his sources.
Five minutes later, bare-chested, their shirts folded and placed atop their shoes, they stand on the edge of the St. Croix.
“You first,” Kevin says.
And he pushes T into the water.
In hindsight, of course, the current of the river should’ve been taken into account before getting into the water.
Because it’s hard to swim straight across a river.
The story of The Swimming is best heard from the source. It involves wild gesticulation, shivering, and a graphic description – including a fascinatingly inappropriate visual aid – regarding the surprising difference between air temperature and the temperature of a rapidly flowing river.
So we’ll skip over that.
What I know for sure is that they jumped. They swam. And they lived.
And they were much more tired on the swim back to the van than on the original trip.
But this time, they took into consideration the current.
16 comments:
Aw! But I love fascinatingly inappropriate visual aids!
:)
An illustration might be in order...
My overactive imagination brought up some unbelievable visuals. I don't think the truth could even compare. Guys are just so weird.
You just gotta wonder what men have for brains dontcha? I'm thinking they must be a lot like mashed potatoes with lumps.
A video of the re-telling would be nice; then we would get full benefit of the gesticulating, shivering and ... well, not all of us need the graphic description, but we can cover our eyes/ears for that part.
I'd have chipped in for the parking...swimming against the current is never fun.
we should all be able to share current events.
Definitely must be a guy thing...a woman would have more common sense.
Talk about guts and glory.
Hari OM
Sufferin' sokatosh you've teased with this one before - and I still got carried away on its current! YAM xx
I did something like that once. All the way back I wondered if anyone would notice I'd almost rather drown.
poorly planned activities of that sort are what men were designed for -- it's what we do best
Sadly familiar. Despite my female brain.
It's a baptism of sorts. How did immersion begin? There are various accounts but I favor, "Hold my beer."
I don't I have nothing in way of comment so just leaving
Hmm, well, at least they learned something from the first swim and used that knowledge for the second swim. :D
Post a Comment