Nat Turner
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This is an essay I wrote for my autobiography class, I think it may be an interesting read. It's all real.
Festivus is perhaps the most ludicrous non-denominational holiday. Invented on the show Seinfeld, and celebrated on December 23, it begins with the participants expressing a list of grievances they experienced over the past year. A large dinner is eaten, and then the feats of strength begin, in which all the family members wrestle until the head of the family is pinned to the ground. It was during my junior year when my friend Jeff, an avid Seinfeld fan, invited me to help him with his daring mission to make Festivus known to the entire school.
We planned for weeks before we were ready. In short, our plan involved putting a 2-meter tall aluminum pole (the Festivus equivalent of a Christmas tree) on the roof of our high school, which was roughly 30 feet high, along with a large banner containing the popular Festivus slogan, “A Festivus for the rest of us.” Somehow, Jeff had his gullible mother, a teacher, use her class to make the banner for us without telling the purpose. Because neither of us had a car, we were resigned to walk there and back. For myself, this was roughly an 8-mile journey, as the school was on the opposite side of town. Other than these details, the plan was wholly improvised on the spot – for the better or worse.
I embarked the night before Festivus, December 22. I first gathered all the gear I needed, which included a flashlight, rope, water, watch, bicycle helmet, knife, 2-way radio, my camera, tape, and a backpack to carry it all. I was ready to roll. I turned on the fan in my room and shut the door to give the appearance of me sleeping. Normally I lock the door, so I did not fear that my parents would enter. At 11:30, I carefully snuck out of my house. I left through the backdoor, and crept across the porch and down the stairs as quietly as possible. I went around to the front of my house, and took my father’s bike out of the open garage. I checked over my gear and started biking down the streets to leave my neighborhood.
As I rode down the street, I felt a sense of anticipation and excitement. I began to feel slightly guilty for taking my father’s bike without asking, and for sneaking away from home, but I pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind. I would only concentrate on the task at hand, and nothing more. I planned to have fun, not to quibble with myself about trust and honesty. I decided to from then on to simply live in the moment.
The neighborhood, as usual at this hour, was very quiet. Although it was late December, the night air felt brisk and pleasant. My eyes soon adjusted, and with the bright moon, I had adequate vision. I continued down the road until I reached the point where it merges with the main road. I figured the traffic would pose too much of a risk if I continued on the bike. I would have to walk the rest 2.5 miles across town to Jeff’s house. I stashed the bike in the woods next to the road, where I figured it would probably remain safe until I returned.
I removed my bike helmet, put it into my backpack, and continued down the main road on foot. Cars continually flashed by on my left as I went. On either side of the road was forest, creating an eerie feeling as I went. Being the avid photographer I am. I paused at one point to take a picture to commemorate my passage.
I eventually reached the halfway point of the walk at the 4-way intersection. I passed by the fire station and Dunkin Donuts, which was well lit. I continued walking until I reached Jeff’s house. It was 12:30, and the adventure had only just started.
As planned, I radioed Jeff, and he quickly materialized outside his house. I was astounded at his dress. He was wearing full camouflage gear, and had a ski mask fitted over his face, allowing only his eyes to be visible. In contrast, I simply wore my leather jacket and a winter hat. He handed me a bucket with the rolled up banner inside. I followed him through a fence to his backyard, where he grabbed one of his several long aluminum poles. Carrying our equipment, we exited his yard and started for the school, which was roughly a half mile away.
The walk to the school was especially nerve-wracking. We must have looked like complete maniacs as we walked down the road in the middle of the night carrying a long pole and bucket. We were scared of being seen by anyone; yet it would be hard to avoid attention, seeing that the road was somewhat busy. I came up with a novel plan to circumvent this. As soon as we'd see the beams of an approaching car, we would drop our possessions and continue walking. If we were to be seen, at least we wouldn’t look nearly as suspicious. As we progressed towards the school, we had to do this over a dozen times. It only accentuated the ludicrousness of our adventure.
At one point, we had to pass by the police station. There was no easy way to get past, so we basically just ran and prayed. I could all but imagine them glimpsing two fast moving shadows, darting along the sidewalk. If so, they would almost surely come out to investigate. Fortunately, we were not seen.
We soon reached the outskirts of the school property. We passed through a small line of woods, and came upon the field. The grass was frozen over with a layer of ice, reflecting the glow of the moon. As we walked, the only sound we could hear was the crunching of ice beneath our feet. It was a very strange and eerie feeling. We passed through more woods and field, finally arriving at the school. For mounting the pole, we collected a sufficient amount of ice into the bucket, which was hard to do without any tools.
The only way onto the roof was via a tree. In the past, many overhanging branches had been sheared off, because several students had used it for this purpose. Nonetheless, after searching for ladders, we realized it to be the only way up. Jeff climbed the tree first without much difficulty, and onto the roof. I passed him the rope, and he lifted the bucket up. I then cautiously climbed the tree, and, with the help of Jeff, managed to transfer to the roof. The final few steps seemed especially scary since there was a lack of handholds. I was lucky to not fall, because from that height I could have been injured seriously.
We climbed up a series of maintenance ladders and finally arrived at our destination. We walked around a bit, appraising our situation. Simply being on that roof in the middle of the night with no valid purpose made me feel as though I were in a dream. Looking around, we found the highest and most visible section of the building to hang the poster. After spending roughly ten minutes loading the back with tape, we hung it from the edge. We then mounted the aluminum pole in the ice bucket, and placed it a few feet back from the edge. I felt accomplished with our job, and took a few pictures of the view from the roof. We promised each other not to tell anyone about our involvement.
It was then time to leave. After navigating the ladders I found a low section of roof, about 8 feet off the ground, from which we simply jumped. There was a dangling wire suspended across, and I only narrowly missed snagging my foot on it. It made me grimace at the thought of plunging head first into the cold concrete.
We began the walk back towards Jeff’s house. We talked about our rebelliousness and laughed as we imagined the reactions of everyone the next morning. Suddenly, I stopped moving as a terrible thought struck me. I realized that the aluminum pole was was precariously close the edge of the building, and that if the snow melted the slightest bit, or if wind blew it, the pole could potentially fall the thirty feet and spear some poor kid in the head. It would be criminally investigated, and we would subsequently be found guilty of negligent homicide. Our lives would be ruined.
With this thought, we quickly sprinted back towards the school. I was in poor shape, and my asthma was catching up with me, so I let Jeff go ahead. He made sure I would follow him the entire distance, however, in case he hurt himself while climbing onto the roof. He quickly righted the pole, while I waited for him in the parking lot. In retrospect, instead of simply repositioning the pole, we should have searched for sand to fill the bucket, or perhaps removed the pole entirely. However, we never even broached these options.
We eventually arrived back at his house, and I was then by myself for the long trek back. At this point, it was 3:00 in the morning, and I was utterly exhausted. The roads at this hour were dead, with the only audible sounds being the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. As I walked, I often saw night animals on the prowling in the woods. I noticed an opossum trot across the street. I simply moved along, minding my own business. I was ready to leave all I passed long behind. I could hear the branches of tall oak trees creak in slow agony as they gloomily arched over me.
I again walked through the intersection. I observed the traffic lights intermittently change as I walked past. I noticed that there was not a soul around, and realized I was probably the only one awake at this late hour. Even the Dunkin Donuts was dark and empty. After more walking, which was growing increasingly painful, I eventually reached the place where I stashed the bike. After glancing back I could still see the changing traffic lights in the far-off distance. In a way, it made me feel slightly nostalgic as I briefly reflected back on the night.
From that point on, the following events were a blur. I grabbed the bike, rode home, climbed into bed, and quickly fell asleep - only to be woken two hours later for school. As I was driven there, I eagerly awaited a glimpse of the roof. I saw the pole was missing; either it had fallen, or a janitor took it down, although the banner was still hanging. From the ground, it wasn’t strikingly visible, even with its nine feet in length. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or not, as I’m not sure I wished it to actually garner much attention.
Although the whole escapade left me exhausted, and proved to be rather pointless in effect, it was quite an unforgettable experience. I had betrayed my parents’ trust to travel by foot all the way across town in order to climb on top of the high school, but I felt it worthwhile. It was by all means absurd, foolish, and productive to no tangible end, but it left a lasting impact on me. It taught me that, in essence, an adventure is an end unto itself. We had accomplished our goal, and it was a challenge well met.
