Recently, a fellow blogger named Rachael challenged me to write a post that addressed the topic of childhood dares. I said I’d do it if she did. Then she turned things up a notch: she double-dog dared me.
It had been a while since I’d heard that expression. Decades, maybe. When adults use the word dare, it’s usually intended as either a motivation or a veiled threat. The speaker wants the listener to do something positive (“I dare you to get help for your sunflower seed addiction”), or doesn’t want him to do something negative (“Don’t you dare bring that alligator into this house”). But the objective isn’t malicious. You rarely hear one grown-up say to another, “I dare you to tell Aunt Frances she has only two weeks to live.”
Kids, though, like to prod each other, and the goal is almost always to get someone to do something that will have undesirable results. To issue a dare, then, is to ask the question: “Are you going to do this, or are you too chicken?”
When I was a young boy, dares were presented at different levels of significance, graded by the kind of danger involved and the amount of time the other person could spend in trouble, in jail, or in the hospital.
The most common type of dare was designed simply to demonstrate stupidity. For example, one boy might dare another to walk around the edge of an above-ground swimming pool. I don’t mean in the summer, when there would be other people around, and when a slip might offer some welcome relief from the heat. Such a dare would more likely occur in October, when the pool was half-full of green water and teeming with thousands of tiny, wriggling genetic mutations. I once accepted that very challenge in my own backyard, and minutes later my mother asked me, I believe for the first time, whether I would jump off the roof if my friends told me to do it. I said, no, that I wouldn’t.
But what if they had double-dared me to jump off the roof? What then? A double-dare was more serious than a simple dare. The risks were greater, but so were the potential rewards. Answering a double-dare gave you elevated status, similar to that of a minor superhero, and was therefore much harder to walk away from.
Our house and the house next door were built close together, with a mere eight inches between them. One day, we were playing stickball and the ball bounced into that space. There was no way to reach it unless somebody was willing to squeeze down in there. I may have been the skinniest in the group, but I was also above-average in intelligence, so I refused when the others dared me. Then someone issued a double-dare. That changed things. Without another word, I climbed about six stairs, swung a leg over the wall, and dropped down.
Standing upright between the two buildings, I knew immediately that I was in trouble. There wasn’t enough room to even turn my head. I was facing the street and began to call out to anyone who might be passing by. All the other stickball players had vanished, and prayer now seemed to be my only hope. But who was the patron saint of idiot boys trapped in a crevice? With seconds feeling like hours, I grew increasingly certain that my parents would someday find my skeleton, still fully erect and propped up next to a faded pink rubber ball. Then, two hands appeared from above and pulled me out. My friends had run to the door and convinced my older brother to come to the rescue.
A few years later, I found myself standing at the top of a long hill with some of my cousins and a metal barrel. What would happen, they wondered, if someone were to be put inside the barrel and then rolled down the hill at a frightening rate of speed? I shared their curiosity about this, but had no intention of becoming part of any experiment. Until, that is, one of them double-dared me. The next thing I knew, I was curled up inside and staring at my knees. Then, total darkness, as they put the lid in place, tipped the container, and gave it a kick. The trip down was unpleasant, not so much from the spinning, but because the hill was studded with rocks. It seemed endless, and I was sure that at some point my skull would crack open and they would find my brains slathered all over the inside of the barrel. But soon the rolling slowed, and stopped. I’d made it to the bottom of the hill, alive. I felt like an astronaut emerging from his space capsule, wobbly and disoriented, to the cheers of an appreciative crowd.
I had survived yet another double-dare, and learned a valuable lesson in the process. From now on, it wouldn’t matter who they were or how high they cranked up the dare. I wasn’t going to take the bait.
Many of the homes in our neighborhood were three- and four-story buildings, often separated by gaps of several feet. Nobody thought to lock the doors leading up to the roof back then, I suppose because it was assumed that any kid who needed to be protected from plummeting to the sidewalk today was just going to trip and fall down a sewer tomorrow. Why inconvenience everyone?
We spent a lot of time on one roof or another, flipping baseball cards, reading comic books, or playing keep-away with someone’s hat. There was also a game called skullzies, which used bottle caps and numbered boxes drawn on the ground with chalk. The real name, I learned later, was skully or skelzies, but we mispronounced everything, including Spaldeen for the pink rubber Spalding ball, and liberry for library. We said bunk instead of bump, and even managed to say stupid incorrectly. “Hey, watch it! You almost bunked right into me! What’re you stoopit, or what?”
One of my cousins lived in the middle of a row of identical apartment buildings. We were on the roof playing skullzies, and when we were done he suggested that we jump over to the roof next door. There was no good reason to do this, and I couldn’t imagine how I’d explain it to my mother, but he thought it was a great idea. When I refused, he said, “I double-dog dare you.” I felt nothing. Nothing! I really had become immune, even to the double-dog dare.
That immunity saved me later, when friends were sure it would be fun to ring the doorbell at the convent and run away. And when they found some dry ice and encouraged me to pick it up with my bare hands. And when they urged me to climb a chain-link fence and sneak into a neighbor’s alley to steal his empty deposit bottles. And when they insisted we should all break into the creepy old Victorian house across the street, the one that, according to legend, had been abandoned soon after its owner had hanged herself in the living room.
I was free, no longer controlled by the persuasive power of the dare. As a mature adult, I believe I can resist just about any such challenge. In fact, there’s only one double-dog dare I’d still respond to. And now that I have, Rachael, it’s your turn.
Are you going to do this? Or are you too chicken?
shoreacres
February 17, 2013
What? You tough city kids didn’t have the dreaded Triple-Dog-Dare in your repertoire? You never would have made it in Iowa. That scene in “A Christmas Story” where Ralphie sticks his tongue to the flagpole because of the Triple-DD? That was re-enacted in a multitude of ways. And we all suffered for it.
I’ll say this. I’d forgotten dry ice. What I do remember is the train trestle, and the westbound freight that had its schedule changed without notifying the local trestle-walking team. We could have died, but of course we didn’t. I don’t take any more dares, though. Well, except for the ones I give myself.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I guess the double-dog dare was so effective, there was no need to pull out the triple. In fact, it may have gone even higher, but then that would have required us to know words like quadruple.
We didn’t have train trestles, but we did have elevated tracks running right through the city. Fear of electrocution kept us from doing anything too dumb, though. And where that dry ice came from, I have no idea.
You’re probably right about Iowa. Do you have any good snake stories?
LikeLike
Amiable Amiable
February 17, 2013
Naturally, Charles, one’s response to a double-dog dare should be “You’re barking up the wrong tree.” (You saw that one coming, right?) I love that last image, and can’t wait for Rachael’s turn. You’ve got some tough childhood dares for her to beat.
LikeLike
raeme67
February 17, 2013
I won’t be able to beat this, I’m sure, should have kept the double-dog dare to myself!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I didn’t see that one coming, AA, but I should have.
LikeLike
Angelo DeCesare
February 17, 2013
Another good one, Charlie! You really capture those childhood moments from the outside and inside.
I learned the danger of “dares” from watching “Leave It To Beaver”. You remember the pattern: one of Beaver’s friends (Larry, Gilbert or Whitey) would dare him to do something, he would do it and get in
trouble. By the end of the episode, Beaver had learned a lesson. A few episodes later, Beaver would forget everything that happened and repeat the pattern. Perhaps the writers were trying to teach us kids a lesson about taking unnecessary risks. But once we realized that Beaver was a dope, he lost our sympathy.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 17, 2013
I was amazed to see your comment show up, Ang, because at that very moment I was thinking of asking you to reply to the comment by shoreacres. (Make sure you tell her what tough city kids we were.) I seem to be one of the few people who doesn’t love A Christmas Story, and I don’t remember the triple-dog-dare from our childhood. Do you?
LikeLike
raeme67
February 17, 2013
Ha! Ha! I doubt if I can write anything remotely as funny! Me and my big mouth, just call me clucky! But, look for the post just the same, I’m still silly enough to try! Not sorry I dared you though, when I get to read great stuff like this!!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
Looking forward to your post, Rachael. And no stalling.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
That didn’t take long:
LikeLike
subodai213
February 17, 2013
Thank god I’m female……..we didn’t do double dares. We only seldom did single dares. What I would like to know, sir, is if someone ELSE didn’t take up the double dares you were faced with? And did you ever double dare someone else??
I knew I’d finally grown up when, if I was dared to do something, I’d say, no thanks, I’m okay with being a sissy…….
(says the woman who did 21 years in the Army….)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I can’t remember the dares taken up by others, or the ones I resisted — only those that sucked me in and led to some sort of disaster. And I doubt saying no makes you a sissy; it probably just means you’re smart.
LikeLike
Worrywart
February 17, 2013
I am jumping out of a plane tomorrow. I swear the words I am going to be saying to myself at the door of the plane will be, “I double dog dare you.” Then I will probably think of the title of this post. THEN I will think about how much better jumping out of an airplane is than being in a barrel or stuck in the eight inches between two buildings (yikes – I was claustrophobic just reading it).
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
Good luck today, WW. I hope you’re having fun, and I look forward to hearing about it.
LikeLike
Experienced Tutors
February 17, 2013
Great post. Here across the pond we had ‘Double Dares’ but I can’t remember the ‘Dog’. Perhaps no one double-dared him to swim across the Atlantic.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I still don’t know what the dog part meant, ET. Maybe the alliteration provided some imagined level of emphasis.
LikeLike
writingfeemail
February 17, 2013
I am thankful you survived. But then again, as I recall all of the double-dog dares of my youth – I am thankful that I survived as well. What we do to each other as kids often takes a lifetime to get over. Geez!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I’m glad we both survived, too, Renee. When I was a kid we had a related activity, reserved for rainy days, I suppose. We’d ask each other what we’d be willing to do for a million dollars. The dare was always something that was either physically impossible or not survivable. “Would you eat a bucket of dirt for a million dollars?” “Would you jump off the Empire State Building for a million dollars?” The thing I now find interesting about it is that even all these years later, and factoring in inflation and the higher cost of living, the prize is still a million dollars.
LikeLike
cat
February 17, 2013
I just realised that I missed out on dares like this as a child … was much too afraid of my dad’s whoopings and drunken tirades … probably that’s why I didn’t feel the need for any extra dares in my life … hmmm …
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
It sounds as though you already had more than your share of potential danger, cat. You didn’t need to go looking for more.
LikeLike
ShimonZ
February 17, 2013
wonderful
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
Thank you, Shimon.
LikeLike
earthriderjudyberman
February 17, 2013
Some mighty close calls, Charles. As a tomboy, I did take on a few dares. One of them involved ice skating down a hill that was used for sledding. Another: jumping from one tree to another. (They were fairly close together.) I survived these and other challenges. But they were mere child’s play to some choices I made as an adult – with no dare involved. (Walking a mile home after last call to save bus fare. Yeah! That stoopit!)
Being stuck in that 8-inch crevice, though, would have really freaked me out.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I remember going down a hill standing up on the sled. We didn’t do a lot of tree climbing, just because there weren’t a lot of trees, and we were pretty small. I wonder where you were when you walked home to save the bus fare. “Last call” suggests that it was pretty late at night. Was this in upstate NY?
LikeLike
earthriderjudyberman
February 18, 2013
In Syracuse, N.Y., “last call” was at 2 a.m. It was not my brightest move, and I only did that once. Someone did stop and offer me a ride. I ran like the dickens, realizing what a bone-headed move I’d made. I just wasn’t thinking. I’d moved to the city from the country not too long before. But, to be honest, I wouldn’t have been out walking that late in the country.
LikeLike
Michelle Gillies
February 17, 2013
I know we did the double-dog dares as children but for the life of me nothing is coming back. I must have a mental block on it to protect my sanity. Your barrel story made me think of some of the daredevil stunts pulled around Niagara Falls. I bet the first guy who went over the Falls in a barrel was double-dog dared to do it.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I don’t know who first attempted to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, but the first to survive it was a school teacher named Annie Taylor. From what I’ve read, she did it because she needed the money.
P.S. Don’t even think about it!
LikeLike
Allan Douglas (@AllanDouglasDgn)
February 17, 2013
Thanks for another entertaining glimpse into your childhood, Charles. I’m amazed you survived. I don’t recall ever being double-dog dared to do anything. But then it wasn’t really needed; I volunteered for enough idiotic stuff that it’s a wonder I survived too.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 18, 2013
I’m glad we both made it through that awkward phase called childhood, Allan. And thanks for the comment.
LikeLike
Stephanie
February 17, 2013
I used to think this was a fake thing invented as a TV/movie plot device. I always (from a very young age) thought, “Why would you do that just because someone said that? It’s not like anything will happen if you don’t. Of course in real life any sane person would just say no.” But then I talked to other people and apparently this was actual motivation to do dumb stuff when they were young. Apparently you’re one of them. It’s mystifying, I tell you.
(It might be because from a very young age, I accepted and embraced my wimpiness. So the prospect of people thinking I was a wimp wasn’t any kind of motivator for me.)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 19, 2013
I think it all comes down to peer pressure and that desire to belong. My mother gave me the jump-off-the-roof lecture a few times, but no one ever taught me how to avoid following the group without losing my place in the group. That’s trickier. I eventually figured it out on my own, and probably just in time.
LikeLike
yayaspeaks
February 17, 2013
I really enjoy your posts! Being stuck in the crevice, the barrel story, and some of the other things you share are worthy of a movie. Thanks for writing!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 19, 2013
Thank you for your kind words, Idalia. I think your blog is excellent, too.
http://yayaspeaks.com
LikeLike
Martin Tjandra
February 17, 2013
Thank you for the nice explanation about double-dare. I wasn’t from the western country, therefore I don’t know many of the western cultures, including the double-dare thing. I always curious, why everyone in the movie always do the double dare thingy? And you explain it wonderfully. I hope that your brain isn’t damaged from the falling. 😀
LikeLike
Marie M
February 17, 2013
I had to LOL at Martin’s last sentence above: I hope your brain isn’t damaged, too, but even if it is, most of us wouldn’t have it any other way, not if it produces work like this! Thanks for the post, and to all your comment writers!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 19, 2013
Thanks, Martin and Marie. I don’t think my brain has suffered any physical damage. However, my mind may be a different story.
LikeLike
souldipper
February 17, 2013
Reading this, my life just flashed before me. Dares et al. No wonder I had to keep secrets from my mother. I prevented a cardiac arrest. Funny…a bunch of us were telling “prairie kid” stories last night at dinner. We were so free – parents were too! We all agreed that our parents knew about 1/3 of our daily adventures.
Great read, Charles.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 19, 2013
I’m on the other side of that equation now, Amy. Every once in a while, my eighteen-year-old son will start a conversation with a partial confession: “I never told you this, but…” I’ve learned to dread those words. On the other hand, if he’s telling me the story, that means he survived whatever it was he did and never told me about.
LikeLike
susielindau
February 18, 2013
I remember the double and triple dog days of yore. I guess I survived too!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
Susie, based on some of your recent posts, I’d guess you were the one issuing the dares. Am I right?
LikeLike
susielindau
February 20, 2013
Hahaha! I may have issued a few….
LikeLike
knotrune
February 18, 2013
Once I accepted a dare to dress up as a ghost in a white sheet and walk down the road making ghost noises. But it was too new a sheet to cut holes in so I couldn’t see and had to rely on my friends leading me. I had forgotten this friend’s house was right next door to a big supermarket though. Of course, they led me to the doors of it and left me there saying ‘whooooo, whooooo, where are you?’
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
At least everyone who was at the supermarket that day had a great story to tell when they got home. Did anyone recognize you?
LikeLike
Bruce
February 18, 2013
Like Worrywart, I could feel those walls pressing in but I could take the crabbing. Not being able to turn my head though; didn’t like that description. Double and triple dares here in Aus too but no dogs.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
Would love to read about some of your daring experiences, Bruce.
LikeLike
icedteawithlemon
February 18, 2013
I seldom accepted a “double dog dare” because I was too busy masterminding ones that my sister simply could not ignore–but when I did, it usually had something to do with navigating through a never-ending, sky-high cornfield maze, dodging copperheads or touching an electrical outlet with a wet finger. You city boys jumping from one rooftop to another and retrieving balls (or attempting to) from eight-inch gaps between buildings–now, that’s impressive (and when I say impressive, I might be implying just plain “stoopit”). It really is a wonder that so many of us survived childhood relatively unscathed. Great post, Charles!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
Dodging copperheads? I’ll take roof-jumping any day, Karen.
LikeLike
jeanjames26
February 18, 2013
I was reading this with my 9 y/o son who is a current member of the double dare club, and he smiled and laughed and proceeded to tell me about his most recent dare (to sit with the girl he likes on a carousel on a field trip) he did it! You make childhood memories refreshing.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
A nine-year-old boy sitting with a girl. That may be the most frightening dare I’ve heard about yet. Thanks, Jean.
LikeLike
She's a Maineiac
February 18, 2013
You’ve perfectly described what it was like growing up with five brothers! Everything was a double dog dare. I laughed throughout this entire post, but I also have to say imagining being squished between those walls and not being able to turn my head gave me a panic attack. You are the master storyteller, Charles.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
I can still feel those walls touching both sides of my stupid head, Darla. That makes it an easy story to tell, unlike the one you wrote about here:
LikeLike
Angelo DeCesare
February 18, 2013
Charlie, I also dislike “A Christmas Story”. I’ve tried to watch it on several occasions but end up turning it off. I wonder if we dislike it for the same reasons. Everyone else I know loves it. They even turned it into a Broadway play! Maybe we just don’t get it. But I doubt it.
Every neighborhood had it’s own slang and expressions that kids used. It was similar to the various dialects that are used in the same country by people supposedly speaking the same language.
I wish that my neighborhood had “tough guys”. That would have been great! We had junior sociopaths. Our neighborhood Boys Club was called “The Future Inmates of America”.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 20, 2013
What about that gang you and I belonged to? You know, the one that required us to patrol a certain territory, armed with sharp instruments and getting rid of any “trash” we came across. We were pretty tough, despite our name.
LikeLike
Stacie Chadwick
February 18, 2013
The biggest difference between boys and girls, I think, is the “truth” inserted before the dare in similar situations. I hardly ever had to worry about cracking my skull open on a boulder as I bounced down a hill in a metal can because girls pretty much had one thing in mind when we played that game: finding out who each other’s crushes were. Truth be told, though, if you mentioned the wrong boy’s name when you had to answer that fateful question and it happened to be a boy Kim Porter had a crush on? You’d be better off careening out of control down that hill.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 21, 2013
So girls cracked open each other’s skulls, too; they just did it in different ways.
LikeLike
Stacie Chadwick
February 21, 2013
Good point.
LikeLike
Rufina
March 2, 2013
This comment, about how girls play this game differently, is SO true!
LikeLike
Betty Londergan
February 18, 2013
I am SO happy you didn’t turn into a skeleton between those two buildings! Where else (but from the Christmas story) would we get such a blast from the past??
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 21, 2013
The entire ordeal probably lasted less than five minutes, but I can still relive the feelings and everything that went through my head. At the same time, I can’t imagine what was going through that same head before I jumped the wall.
LikeLike
Wyrd Smythe
February 18, 2013
I do not have a problem with sunflower seeds. I can stop any time I want to….
I had a double-dog as a child. He always stole my double-mints.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 21, 2013
If you can’t tell whether you’re standing in left field or right, you have a problem. Hey, double-dog just reminded me of Devil Dogs. Remember those?
LikeLike
Wyrd Smythe
February 21, 2013
This is why they only let me play Center. Extreme Center… behind the wall and up in the stands.
Don’t remember Devil Dogs (had to look them up), but then I have never liked pastry with filling of any kind (so, yeah, most Hostess and similar products have always been off my menu).
LikeLike
Barbara Rodgers
February 19, 2013
Yikes – that sounds terribly frightening to be trapped in a crevice between buildings! Or rolling down a hill trapped in a barrel! The only dares I can recall from my childhood were pretty tame, sometimes my sister or I would dare the other to sneak a cookie from the jar.
But your story sheds some light on what kind of stuff may have been going on with my sons and their friends while they were outside playing. It’s probably a good thing that I still don’t fully understand how one deeply cut knee came to need 10 stitches or why another scratched cornea required a two-night stay in the hospital…
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 21, 2013
I think kids tend to tell their parents the bare minimum, Barbara. They save the gory details for years later, when they’ll still get horrified reactions, but without the punishment.
LikeLike
Diane Henders
February 20, 2013
Love this post, Charles! It’s a miracle you survived.
Sadly, most of the stupid things I’ve done weren’t the result of dares. They were all me… 🙂
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 21, 2013
It’s a miracle any of us survived, Diane. By the way, your recent post on memory lapses was great:
LikeLike
Diane Henders
February 21, 2013
Thanks, Charles! 🙂
LikeLike
i mayfly
February 21, 2013
Your story tickled my funny bone, but also had me thinking that perhaps the deluge of reality TV must be the result of someone’s double-dog dare? TV audiences “trapped in a crevice” of unimaginative writing and praying “hands from above” will pull them out of the void? That’s a dare someone shouldn’t have taken. -Nikki
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 22, 2013
Reality TV could be another post, Nikki. But that would require me to watch some of it, and I don’t think I’m willing to pay that price. Not yet, anyway. Maybe you could write it.
LikeLike
Interested Priya
February 22, 2013
This brought a smile, Charles. Thank you. I also felt a little scared for you, the kid you.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 22, 2013
Thanks, Priya, but this post is an example of selective memory. I could come up with just as many stories that prove my childhood was carefree — a continuous series of happy experiences. (It sounds boring, though.)
LikeLike
littletombo
February 22, 2013
Hey, just to let you know, I nominated you for the ‘Very Inspiring Blog Award’. See link for details: http://littletombo.wordpress.com/2013/02/22/very-inspiring-blog-award/
LikeLike
Lady from Manila
February 23, 2013
Not too long ago, I dared myself to write a silly or rather foolish letter to a pal of mine thinking he’d find it amusing. Of course it backfired because instead of entertaining him, the letter got him upset. Not my original intention of course. I vowed never to do that again so as not to jeopardize my friendship with my pal.
Though I admit to rereading the letter more than twice trying to find out where I really went wrong. Anyway, enough of self-dares for me. 🙂
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 24, 2013
Sometimes we won’t — or can’t — recognize our own intentions, or the consequences of our actions. We’re willing to take risks, forgetting that there may be unknown risks for the other person, as well.
LikeLike
Lady from Manila
February 25, 2013
Yes, Bb. I might have failed to realize that. It was a dare I truly thought was light and harmless – but which I now regret having done. Is something like that still worthy of pardon, you think?
LikeLike
Sandra Parsons
February 24, 2013
I don’t think I was ever in any danger to accept a dare. I just never saw the difference between “Go, jump off that roof” and “I bet you are too chicken to jump off that roof” – except that the proper answer to the first one is “No!” whereas it is “Yes!” to the latter one.
Be that as it may, I am really glad you did survive these dares, otherwise I would have died without learning about the existence of the dangerous sunflower seed addiction.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 28, 2013
For some reason, it was just unacceptable to allow ourselves to be called “chicken.” Looking back, I can see that it was the height of idiocy to give in to that kind of peer pressure. At the time, though, the reputation was all-important. (We actually believed we had a reputation, and that anyone but us cared about it.) (This is starting to sound like another post.)
LikeLike
Elyse
February 24, 2013
You know, today’s kids really have lost the ability to do death-defying things like we did. Perhaps our parents let us because we had so many siblings to spare. When you have only one or two, you watch more closely.
My double-dog-dare was to pull down my pants and hop across the railroad tracks with a train coming. I survived and then it became a fun game that we did without even a dare. We were incredibly stupid and incredibly lucky. And I am terrified whenever I have to cross train tracks. I figure I used up my luck and then some.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
February 28, 2013
Which was the bigger risk — hopping across the train tracks or pulling down your pants?
LikeLike
Elyse
February 28, 2013
I have pulled down my pants risk free many times, Charles. But the combination of pulling them down around my knees/ankles and then hopping in front of an oncoming train (on numerous occasions, no less) will, hopefully remain the single stupidest thing I have ever done.
LikeLike
JSD
February 28, 2013
Your description of the roll down the hill in the barrel is exactly what it feels like on that Space Mountain ride at Disneyworld.
So obviously no one has ever dared you to eat worms?
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 2, 2013
I remember that ride, JSD. You get banged around pretty badly because it’s in the dark, so you can’t see the turns and hills coming.
I’d never eat worms — we have to draw the line somewhere, don’t we? Also, I had a friend in high school who was in charge of that department. He’d eat worms and stand on the tables in the cafeteria and sing Broadway show tunes. If he was craving attention, he got it.
LikeLike
Mitch Mitchell
March 1, 2013
Dag, you got double-dog dared! That was a biggie back in our day, that’s for sure. Thing is, I was one of those kids who would dare others to do things, but when it came back my way I didn’t always accept it. I like to consider myself smarter than the average bear, so I took on dares of things that I’d already done that no one else knew I’d done. Dude, I thwarted death multiple times by myself, but never with anyone else around to see it; not sure how smart that was but as little kids, we just do stuff right?
And you got a full post out of it; good job!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 2, 2013
So you would risk death only when you were alone. It sounds like it’s a miracle we both survived, Mitch.
LikeLike
Mitch Mitchell
March 5, 2013
That’s pretty true Charles. I think that being by myself removed all pressure; no one likes being watched all the time. But yeah, if something bad had happened, no one would have learned about it for a long time.
LikeLike
Rufina
March 2, 2013
Such a great post! I’m going to check out Rachel’s response next, and a couple of others above that you’ve highlighted in the comments. What is it about accepting dares and breaking rules that is always so tantalizing? The smart ones always learn and live longer, or at least long enough to tell the tale. Hope you like this post I did a while ago; it’s a lot shorter than Blog Tag. 😉 http://300dayjourney.wordpress.com/2012/06/06/toeing-the-line/
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 3, 2013
The thing about a dare, I’m suddenly realizing, is that accepting one is really just about following a different rule. You may be doing the unthinkable, but the action comes from someone else’s thought.
I liked your post on toeing the line. And I’m glad you’ve continued blogging.
LikeLike
marymtf
March 13, 2013
Wait and see, I used to say. You’ll have children of your own one day. But mine just laughed. What about yours, Charles?
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 16, 2013
I used to hope that I’d survive raising my own children, just so I could watch them struggle with kids of their own. We’re getting closer.
LikeLike
elijahestrada
March 18, 2013
This was just funny. I enjoyed the dry humor along with the memories from my not-so-distant childhood. My last accepted dare tested the theory of umbrellas being equivalent to parachutes. Rooftops, jumping boys, and umbrellas do not play well together.
Great blog. I’ll be back to read more.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 19, 2013
I remember the umbrella dare, too, although I’m sure it wasn’t from the roof. Somehow we were smart enough to test it from safer altitudes.
Thanks for the kind words, Elijah. Your blog is excellent, too.
http://elijahestrada.com/about/
LikeLike
zoetic * epics
March 19, 2013
You’re lucky you didn’t grow up near me! I was that “double-dare-you” bully that made all my friends do crazy things.
I am happy to say we are still all good friends.
And that those were the best, most memorable moments of their lives.
Or are they mine? 😉
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 21, 2013
Those things do produce great memories — assuming we survive them.
LikeLike
lostnchina
March 25, 2013
You still have more brains than I do. In grade school, somebody DARED me to step on a rusty nail on a board. And for the next six weeks I walked on my hands and knees like a dog.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
March 25, 2013
Susan, the rusty nail was one of those things we feared beyond all reason. Our mothers had instilled some terror into our minds about what would happen if we stepped on one, and for once we actually listened.
LikeLike
Chichina
April 11, 2013
I did a parachute jump on a simple dare at the age of 19…… with disastrous results. I still enjoy an occasional dare…. It keeps life interesting and edgy.
LikeLike
Wyrd Smythe
April 12, 2013
(Can’t have been that disastrous unless this is your ghost writing comments! :D)
LikeLike
Chichina
April 12, 2013
True, I am still here to talk about it.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
April 12, 2013
I jumped twice, when I was fifteen and then a year later. Both were unforgettable, in a good way. Tell me what happened sometime.
LikeLike