Happy May 25th!

On May 25, 2001, I almost killed my friends...

Allow me to expound:

It had been a fun and altogether frustrating day. Ryan (directly to my left in the photo above) invited Phil (second from the right) and me water skiing with his family on Utah Lake. We spent all afternoon water skiing and wakeboarding. Well, most of everyone else did, which is probably why I didn't describe the day as simply fun.

When it was my turn to try the wakeboard, I struggled getting the hang of it. When I say struggled, I mean, I failed and I failed beautifully. I fell on my face. I splattered time and time again and I got more and more depressed at my regrettable lack of coordination and athletic prowess with every unsuccessful attempt.

Despite the very powers of heaven and earth working against me that day, I decided I wasn't stopping until I had gotten up. Unfortunately for my determination, we had to head back to get Ryan's sister home. While doing so, I became the butt of every joke uttered by both Ryan and Phil. I took it graciously. I felt bad for being the only one who didn't get it, but I appreciate good humor and they hurled some pretty amazing zingers my way. I believe the term "special olympics" was used more than once along with a myriad of other disparaging comments.

After cleaning the boat and driving home, Phil and Ryan hopped into Old Blue and I drove them up to Woodland Hills where we were planning on going to an end of the year party at our friend's house. The ridicule continued and reached a feverish peak about half way up the hill. I told them I had had enough and that I was feeling pretty low, but they insisted on perpetuating the barrage. I couldn't take it anymore so I kinda snapped. Driving on the rural road at a brisk 50 miles an hour, I turned onto a side road without breaking. We continued on this road clattering along until it leveled out into a dirt path.

I continued driving while avoiding my friends' inquiries about where we were going. About five minutes later, I recklessly turned off the road, killed the engine and got out of the car. I knew at this point I had gotten the attention of my friends, but I continued to ignore their whiney questions. I popped the trunk and started rummaging through the heap of stuff in the back.

At this point, Ryan tentatively asked, "What are you doing, Dane?"

I said, "Looking for something sharp."

Sadly, I couldn't find anything so I settled on a healthy roll of duct tape. I went to Phil's door, opened it and insisted that he get out of the car. But true to their previous disobedience of my requests, they stayed safely buckled in their seats.

I decided homicide probably wasn't the best solution to my frustrations, so I got back in the car and drove them to my house...

That right there is the true story. Don't listen to any other versions, they are most definitely inaccurate and exaggerated. I had no intention of causing harm to my frinds. What started out as a simple joke to lighten my mood and to get the point across turned into something that just really wasn't funny (at the time--Let this be a lesson to all of you funny people out there.). Trust me, since then, it's become very funny. It's actually caused more laughter than I would like to admit. I can promise you one thing: I have never, ever contributed to that laughter.

Needless to say, May 25 has become somewhat of a holiday among my friends. Every year we joke and wish each other a happy one. It's a day of friendship, of survival, of tolerance and love. With that said, I would like to wish my boys Ryan and Phil and everyone else, for that matter, who has ever wanted to strangle his or her friends a heartfelt Happy May 25th!