The Visit

THE VISIT

A memoir

IT was a night like every other when there wasn't a moon: dark, dark enough for mischief. My best friend and partner in crime sat in front of me and to the right. His older sister sat in front and to the left. Of course I was in the back, this wasn't even my car. Tonight was the night I was going to feel like I was in an action movie; I just didn't know it yet.

As we drove down the dark streets my friend directed his sister when to turn. As we finally reached the correct street, we rolled by our target slowly, analyzing everything. This time we noticed through the front window a light in the house was on. This was going to make it interesting. We had done this only once before. Last time we drove around for an hour, searching like a hunter for his prey. And then we drove past it. Yes. This was the house. The house we silently agreed to victimize whenever we felt the need for harmless teenage rebellion. The first attack happened the night we discovered our prey. We had left a card from their "friend" Adam Gjsahsdufqef (As we scribbled the last of the last name out as we wrote it) telling them that they pretty much suck as a person, then dumped a can of sardines on their porch. The best part about it was ringing the doorbell and running down and around the corner as fast as we could.

We laughed as we had filled out the Hallmark card from Wal Mart in my car. Giggled all the way up to the front porch like school girls, telling each other, "Shhh! Shh!". Giggled more as we set the card on the porch then dumped the sardines all over the porch. And then it hit us: one of us had to ring the doorbell. But who was it to be? We both wanted to and at the same time we neither one of us wanted to. Whoever rang the doorbell would have the satisfaction of waking the residents in the middle of the night to our little surprise but whoever didn't would have the head start of running and not getting caught.

We finally decided (and I think it was he) who was to ring the bell. His finger hovered over the button, trying to will himself to do it. I stood at the bottom of the steps, not breathing, poised ready to sprint off down and around the corner. The anxiety was thick in the air, both of us waiting for that moment of truth to tell our legs to move with a haste only comparable to Usain Bolt. Finally, after staring at his finger over the button for what seemed like an eternity, he closed his eyes, calmed himself, then turned to me and whispered through the darkness, "On three."

I watched his fingers rise one by one. One. My breath has caught even tighter. I was holding my breath harder to not make a sound. As if I were to breathe I would not be able to know when he reached three. Two. My breath finely loosened, knowing that I was going to have to breathe to run. I watched the simultaneous rise of his third finger along with his whole upper body and the press of the bell. The nanosecond we heard the chime we were off! My friend careened off the porch in a single bound, skidding in the lawn as if he were in a drifting competition (as anyone who has worn Chuck Taylor high-tops knows in wet grass you have no traction) and without missing a beat bolted to the sidewalk. I followed by his side as we raced down the side walk. About a half a block from our target we started to yell to each other through whispers to hurry up, though Olympic runners would had met their match as I'm sure we set the new world record for 100 meter sprint in just over three seconds.

As we reached my car around the corner we jumped in through the doors we had left open. "DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!" My friend yelled to me in excitement, followed by pure, blissful laughter. We laughed for about five blocks then we made our way to his house for that was the end of our night. The natural ecstasy was incredible! And it fills me now thinking about it. But our adventure does not stop here.

Two months later we happened to be passing each other in the halls at school when he grabbed me by the arm and in a voice only loud enough for me to hear he said, "I need to go on a Visit tonight." His face and voice expressed all seriousness. The thing about it was we had never coined the term "Visit" to this particular mischief, though when he said it to me I knew exactly what he meant. A smile crossed my face as I confirmed the plan with him there. But what to take? On my way to my next class I had passed the pottery classroom and found that they had thrown out most of last semesters projects, and then I found it. A ten inch tall, light green figurine that looked as though Michael Jackson and Bob Marley had a child. I snagged it out of the trash and rushed down the hall. Later that night I told him what I had found for The Visit. We had combined my figurine and a few of his 1950's Life magazines his grandfather had given him for our porch-present tonight. Which leads me to here, sitting in the back of his car with his sister driving. We had talked her into being our escape driver. She had heard us talking about our last visit and wanted in on this one. It worked perfect for us because now we could have our chariot ready to speed away. That, and a manual was a lot harder to escape in without it already being in gear.

This night was to be perfect. We had her park in the spot we did last time and dim all the lights and then we stepped out. This time there was no jitters, no giggling. We were on a mission. We had done this before, we were seasoned vets. And now we had to be on our game for as far as we knew they were awake. As we walked cooly but briskly to our objective, we unanimously agreed since he rang the bell last time, tonight I shall ring the bell and wake the beast (or beasts. Beastette. Whatever.) inside. We came to the porch and strategically placed our presents. After that, we got in our positions. Me, poised over the doorbell, and he, and the bottom of the porch. At this point I had no idea I was about to do amazing acrobatics like action stars. Before I rang the bell we watched the front window. Light from the hall flooded the front room. We watched like statues, looking for any sign of movement. Finally when we had come to the conclusion that the residents were slumbering, I started my silent count down.

Three. I rang the bell as ran as my finger left that small white button on the house. I left the porch in the exact manner as he had the last time we did this. We bolted down the side walk in all seriousness, beating our record time from before with the fear that they were on to us. As we rounded the corner to the car his sister saw us coming and slowly started to drive forward, anticipating our bounding into the car at full bore. My friend reached his open door before I, leaping in and slamming his door. But what's this! As his door slams shut she starts to accelerate! I had barely reached by door as she pulled away. I reached out and yelled, "DON'T LEAVE ME!" In a split second I saw my only chance. If I wanted to board this speeding bullet I'd have to jump and apply my small knowledge of physics into it. With all my legs could muster running as fast as they could I leaped forward and to the right! Arching my back to arc gracefully into the cab. I reached my right arm out to grasp anything to hold me in this speeding machine. I landed with the lower halves of my legs dangling out of the car, the toes of my shoes scraping the road. I pulled myself into the car and then upright. As I shut my door I realized what I had just accomplished and a proud smirk crossed my face. My friend however began to laugh. He laughed at my distraught voice, calling out into the night, "DON'T LEAVE ME!" Still to this day, about 4 years later, the thought brings him laughter.

In the next two years we accomplished 3 more Visits, ranging from random unmarked bags of bricks we found in Wal Mart, to a cancer card for our farewell. One of the nights we had even convinced my wife to drive for us. For the past two years the house has remained unvisited. My friend and I have had obligations outside of town, which is fine. It gives our prey time to recoup. But hopefully soon, they will get a visit from their good friend Adam Ghjfbdhbdf;na.