Week 5: Operation A Night to Remember

We were not afraid at all, but we should have been. Kids, particularly teenagers, don't always acknowledge the benefits of fear, and because of this, they sometimes charge headlong into danger without blinking. My friends and I were no different We went to high school during the day, but we would be there that night, as well, for an extracurricular activity, if you will. It was Halloween night, 2005, and we had retrieved two dozen eggs for a top secret mission that would leave egg white destruction in our wake. We dowsed ourselves in camouflage pants and jackets and took a picture of our expedition force. We looked like a group of underage South American militia. But we were ready for a night we would not soon forget.

What our parents were thinking I do not know. They purchased the eggs for Pete's sake! I guess they realized that there could be a whole lot of terrible activities that we could be involved in as teens and this was least among them. Or maybe they figured that they had done similar things as kids and they didn't want to “egg our bus” so to speak. But regardless of their motivations, they soon released us into the city like a pack of wild hyenas on the carcass of a wildebeest.

We left my house and made our way through the jungle streets, eager to reach our destination and carry out our Navy Seal style operation. We didn't stop anywhere but made our way straight to the staging ground. Passing the main driveway entrance of our school and working our way to the left flank, we rested for a bit just on the edge of the property. We suddenly saw something we did not expect. While we assumed that this attack would be as easy as making an omelet, there were now before us several huge obstacles. A truck, presumably driven by some sort of school staff, was patrolling around the building in a winding loop. There also appeared to be someone walking around the back with a flashlight. Things had just been kicked up a notch and the fear that had, till now, stayed at bay, entered our minds with force.

We could not go back now, so we discussed our approach. Would we work our way to the back and strike there where it was safer? No. It was not visible enough to gain attention, or even be noticed at all. Could we hit the front of the building without getting caught? The truck circled around and headed for the end of the long driveway. If we were going to make our move, we decided that this was the moment. We lunged over the railroad tracks, through the pukka-brush, and onto the front lawn. Dividing the eggs between us, we picked our targets and made ready. Some of us chose to pummel some windows while others, including myself, targeted the front doors. I whispered the countdown to everyone and on “go” we commence the barrage.

I have never seen more eggs scrambled in my life. We were like cocain addicts attending a party at Scarface's house. We grabbed egg after egg and hurled with glee at the brick edifice. We didn't do what we did out of spite, but we did it out of a simple desire to record one unforgettable moment we could point back to when we were old and gray as one of the great adventures in our lives. Yet whatever the motivation of our endeavor, the ending to this fairy tale was about to blow up.

We had almost extinguished our yoke stockpiles when suddenly, from out of the bushes a flashlight pierced through the darkness and shocked us into reality like a defibrillator to the chest. We realized within a second that the fun was over. I latched onto one last egg, throwing it at the door, and yelled “run!” We all took off. The man with the flashlight must have either been over weight or he didn't much care because we never saw him again. We ran as fast as we could back across the lawn, through the pukka-brush, and across the railroad tracks. We stopped on the edge of the property and looked back to see if we were followed. It did not appear that we were.

Once the fear and adrenaline had subsided, we all began to laugh and give high fives. It was exhilarating. Our mission was a complete success. We had even managed to save some eggs. The biggest victory, however, came in the days and months that followed. Once we had caught our breaths well enough to speak, we all swore to one another that we would say nothing; nothing, to anyone. While we had not attained the identity of the man with the flashlight because of the light in our eyes and the frantic getaway, we could not be certain that he did not see us. So for now, we would take a vow of silence, never disclosing what we had done until we could be sure that any egg crimes statute of limitations had expired. That too was successful.

I remember that night like it was yesterday. It is emblazoned in my mind. Branded on the medulla tissue. And a branding never fades. It never goes away. While I will not necessarily be purchasing eggs for my children and their friends, I will be able to point back at that night as one of my great adventures. I'm pretty sure there are still yoke stains on the wall at our high school too. Those don't fade either.