The Peter Pan Complex Bitch Slap

Ok. It's not that I'm so delusional as to think that I'm still a child, but at 26 I still consider myself "young". I'm relatively fit, couldn't lift a car or anything, but if push came to shove, I could run a mile in under ten minutes. I'll hold a moment to let your amazement sink in.

So, on Monday some friends and I ventured into the mountainous bowels of Washington to sun and bathe ourselves on the banks of the Washougal River. A good time was had by all, though I'm still discovering scratches and scrapes from where I continuously bit it while wading on the rocks.

After about a half hour of consuming Pabsts and cheddar/beer Kettle Chips (I KNOW), we decide it's time to explore. It is here I shall introduce the rope swing. It was long, and knotted, and so so innocent looking, tied under a bridge, worn and obviously loved. To utilize the rope swing, one had to climb a large boulder on the far left side. It was so tall that you could almost touch the bridge's underbelly. The idea was, you swing from the boulder, clear the rocks below, and let go once you reach the deep part of the river. Sounds easy, right? We see kids do this in movies all the time (yes, movies, I live in the city, damnit!) Well two days later I'm still freakishly sore. Turns out I cannot easily support my own body's weight, and attempting to do so ended up in several stinging belly flops in the cold cold water. The boys kept yelling "bring up your legs! It's easier!" Yeah, thanks for that. Gravity is a bitch, friends.

So the afternoon was a painful reminder that those childish days of summer are gone forever. What was once youthful adventure, had now become painful and frankly, quite humbling. I mean, it's not like we were alone, oh no. Children looked on with mouths agape...I think they got a glimpse into their future and it scared them. Their parents averted their eyes to avoid openly laughing at our, well, physical retardation. A person can only take so much. We tucked our dripping hair behind our ears and sheepishly returned to our towels and booze, the consolation prize of adulthood. I have yet to decide whether or not medicinal shoe shopping is in order.