Dumbest Thing You've Ever Done

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A few days ago I was reading a Facebook post about a guy who, by accident, ate a few cookies only to later find out they were dog treats.

The guy shall remain nameless so as not to embarrass him.

(Jeff Popple)

Anywhoha...it got me to thinking.

Dumbest thing you're ever done?

I have a bunch, as do most people, I'm afraid. I was listening to a story about Hall of Fame Baseball Player George Brett as he poked fun of himself for literally shitting his pants in public.

It takes a special person to make that public.

Mine?

The Bills were in their fourth straight Super Bowl back in January of 1994. I was convinced that they were going to win that one after having lost the previous three. We all had really got the partying down by then as well so we had the day planned out. It forced me up and out of bed by 7 a.m. on game day.

At that time I was living alone in my rat's nest apartment in South Buffalo. Anyone who had the pleasure of my company in that place just cringes whenever I bring it up in casual conversation.

"I was scared to sit down in there," my one buddy often says.

Whatever.

I jumped out of bed, put on my Jim Kelly shirt and headed for the door. I'd already received three calls about beer, and I was ready to roll.

Except we had a deep freeze the night before.

My car was parked real close to the two other cars belonging to other tenants. They were sleeping. I got in my car, started it, waited for the windows to defrost, tossed it into reverse and attempted to back out of my spot.

The car was frozen in place.

I couldn't very well call anyone I knew and mentioned that I couldn't get out of my driveway. I'd already developed a reputation for being a little slow on the uptick when it came to mechanical difficulties.

I thought of my brothers and how they could escape any situation. This was doable!

I kept the car in reverse mode and stood inside my door with my hands on the steering wheel. I was gonna' rock it back and forth to break the grasp of the ice.

Come on now...that's a reasonable idea, right?

I should have put it in neutral, you say?

Well, I didn't.

I started rocking it and I felt some progress. Then I felt a lot of progress at once. The car was backing up. My driver's side door was running straight into the ass end of the car parked beside me. My driver's side door started to close, forcefully.

I was still standing there.

As I was being squeezed hard enough to pull a George Brett my life flashed before my eyes. I could picture my Dad receiving the news and what he'd say as he digested the story:

"Yeah, he was a goofy bastard."

But then the car miraculously passed the other car. My driver's side door swung free.

I hit the ground.

My car kept going.

It smashed into the apartment house, tearing off a good chunk of siding.

I scrambled to my feet and jumped into the open door and slammed on the brakes.

I thought about shutting the car down and grabbing my bearings, but that would result in a lot of questions from my landlord or whoever the hell I woke up when the car hammered the building.

So I put it in drive and headed out.

The Bills got hammered.

My chest hurt all day, so I got hammered too.

The next day I came clean with the landlord.

He laughed.

Now tell me...isn't that a wee bit dumber than eating a couple of cookies that belonged to Fido?

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