Bungee Brent, Tall Bridges And A Drive-By

Ever get asked to do something that you just know is going to be fun?

And then it turns out fun?

But not what you expected?

In other words, if someone asked you to go jump off of a two hundred foot bridge with an old couch waiting at the bottom of a ravine missing some pillows, would you do it?

I did it. And I pooped right before I did.

WARNING! This story contains descriptions of a naked butt. Though not actually a sexual fantasy post, it does contain some images that go up and down alot...

My sister stopped by one day with her boyfriend Jamal and told me she and Jamal just met this guy who calls himself "Bungee Brent". She said he was coming up from Oakland where he is from on the weekend to put on an illegal and surreptitious Bungee jump off of a country bridge just outside of Healdsburg, California. I said, "Yes, I would."

Sandy said "Wait for the question."

I said "You know how I am..."

(She had heard stories...)

She said it was like, forty or fifty bucks and I said let's hit the ATM and before you know it, Saturday morning was upon us and I was crawling out of bed at three am...

I had a cup of coffee and the three of us ate something my sister knocked up and we headed up to Healdsburg, pulling into a gas station right at four am, about thirty minutes early...

Ever sit in a car somewhere at that hour of the night and start to feel a little like you are about to make a deal? And I don't mean the Bob Barker kind, either. You are just sitting there and you know you look like a couple of urban hooligans waiting to meet "The Man" for your special concoction...

You look around like you are cool. You hang your arm out the window and drum your fingers. You hope the cops don't roll by and give you a hard time...

After ten minutes of this we heard the BOOM BOOM BOOM of a ghetto box in the backseat (and trunk) of an older Caddy with bondo and primer, chopped springs and four rough looking Mexican dudes in the car. The driver was the only big one, but the other three looked like they'd knife you in a second if you let them. Tattoos everywhere and lots of silver up and down the ears.

Crap.

It was too early for this kind of shit. What the hell do these clowns want?

They pulled up along side us as we sat there. Their music was so loud and their heads were all bobbing to it and at first they seemed like they weren't too interested in us, except they pulled up only three feet away from us and they were just bobbing their heads and rocking to the BOOM BOOM BOOM of some ghetto trash on their stereo.

Now I'm just big and white and suburban looking. I can't help it. Suburbs from way back, for me. I've got no inner city coolness or ghetto hipness or jailtime edginess or even ethnic easiness...

Just a big ol' goofy guy, really. But I'm strong. So I don't scare easily.

My sister is a tough chick but she is still a chick. She does however, possess kicking legs that would make a kangaroo sit up and fall down backwards.

Jamal was our ticket here. His mother was a white hippy but his father was a black hipster. He could relate to these Mexican thugs in a way that might save us from having to fight for our skins.

But he was on the opposite side of the car from the gansta low-rider dudes in the Caddy with the BOOM BOOM BOOM going and the bobbing heads.

The moment was intense. Scenarios of blood-filled denouments filled my mind

The Mexican guy rolled down his window and reached out and tapped our car with his ring, making a ticking sound. Sandy rolled down her window. The guy said something. He was shouting, but we didn't hear him over the noise of the stereo. He turned and yelled in the car, and the music got turned down. It was suddenly real quiet.

"Is this the place for the Bungee jumpin', man?"

"Huh?"

"Is this where we're supposed to meet up? 'Cause if it is, I gotta get me some coffee."

"Yeah, this is it."

"Right on, man. Cool. Like, anybody want some coffee? I'm buyin'."

I said yes. What the hell. He was buyin'...

He brought back several cups of coffee and we all sat on the hood of the Caddy or leaned against it and sipped coffee and exchange pleasantries... "My name is Miguel. But people call me "Drive-By". This is my crew of homies, man. Like this is Jesus. Armando and that creepy lookin' guy is Chip."

"Chip?"

"You think that's funny, man? He don't think that's funny. How would you like it if your Papa called you Ignacio or some shit like that?"

More cars came. A crowd had gathered. All in all, there were about thirty people and Bungee Brent, who introduced himself and his assistant Marley and we learned he was from Oakland and played basketball on Tuesday nights with Drive-By and they were good rivalrous friends.

We all caravaned out of town and headed up a country road that led to some good vineyard land full of vines and came upon a very tall and narrow bridge perhaps two hundred feet off of the ground. Maybe two twenty. At the bottom of the ravine sat an old couch someone had tossed over the bridge in a fit of overzealous littering.

"Think you can hit that?" asked Bungee Brent to a silenced crowd who looked over and thought about what they had paid to do in a moment. There were nervous titters.

This kind of stuff amuses me to no end.

The sun was just cracking on the horizon, and Bungee Brent worked hard and fast to secure an anchor for his system. I watched carefully. I was, after all, one of the heaviest ones. Then he started placing harnesses on people and tossing them over the side. They yelled and screamed and laughed and laughed and hooted and shouted and bounced around with big, exuberant smiles on their faces.

Then it came.

That feeling you dread. With everybody around and your turn approaching, and nothing in God's green earth you could do to stop it. It came suddenly and I should have known. I should have anticipated. I should have been more prepared.

I had to go poo.

I had had a second cup of coffee. It loosened me up. I was gonna have to go. I was gonna have to go soon.

Like right away.

I waddled to the edge of the bridge and walked around and down into the ravine. The edges were steep, but I could get in and under the bridge just enough to be out of view and I dropped my drawers and out it came. I'll spare you the details (it was horrible!), but what I will tell you is that I forgot about the Bungee Jumper. You know, the one who got to hang there and watch what I was expelling while bouncing around in space? You know, the tough looking Mexican dude named Chip? Who had a bit of announcer wannabe in him? Who started giving a play by play? Who got everybody to lean over the side to see what I was doing? And I had to clean up with grass plucked up from the earth which made it all even more tough on me.

Everybody now yelling "Oooooh, GRASS WIPE!" like that was the funniest thing ever.

I put my head between my knees and just hit the "IGNORE" button in my brain. I mean, what else was I gonna do?

Thankfully, it ended and Bungee Jumping in and of itself was enough of an interest and distraction that people soon forgot about my arse. It was now Drive-By's time and he was going to just fall backwards like a Lipton Plunge. Bungee Brent had stashed an extra harness by his feet, and when Drive-By started to lean back and fall... Bungee Brent pulled out the extra harness and yelled "YOU FORGOT YOUR HARNESS, MAN!" Waving the harness like a flag.

Drive-By bit for just long enough that you could see terror overcome his face as he fell back. Nothing to grab but air as he grabbed lots of it, trying to get back to a firm bridge while he fell without a harness...

Ahhhhhhh.....

He bounced and cussed and swore and threatened life and limb while we all had a belly laugh and his buddy Chip just kept saying "That's fucked up, man." and then it was my turn.

I did a cannon-ball of sorts and the short-lived moment was all that and more.

What a RUSH...


THAT CONCLUDES TODAY'S TALE. PLEASE EXIT ORDERLY, AND IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND, HIT THE 25Peeps button ON YOUR WAY OUT. IT BRINGS ME LOTS OF LURKERS AND A FEW HOT CHICKS. HAVE SOME PITY ON ME, WON'T YOU? I'm a branded Grass wiper...