I always knew he was a little crazy. Although, I’d follow him anywhere, because almost always his brand of insanity was also a lot of fun. Despite there lucidlessness his little adventures were well thought out plans, usually pre-tested, almost guaranteed not to kill you, even though they sounded like they might.

One morning, bright and early, he suggested we go jump off a bridge. Sounded kinda crazy, yet I agreed, as the coffee hadn’t quite sunk in and my frontal lobe was still on idle.

He said he knew the perfect spot, the bridge being just high enough and the water just deep enough for a quick dive.

After a cursory check for depth, rocks and any other hazards, save for the obvious one, we walked out to the middle of the bridge.

Three of us, including myself, sauntered out to the middle of the bridge, while a couple of other friends pulled out thier cameras to take pictures, and laugh at how crazy we were.

Wondering, if I had truly lost my mind, the three of us counted to three and jumped.