Or maybe I should say… the dirtiest.
You see that picture above, those where my friends’ reaction to my jump and not because I landed, but rather the way I landed (they were laughing at me because I fell down).
It started innocently enough from a plan that had been made 24-hrs earlier.
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A TRUE LIFE STORY
Seven friends, one bailed. So six guys decided to stroll around the campus one evening.
One walk around school.
No destination.
Just vibes, conversations and music.
The kind of walk where nobody knows where they’re going, but somehow everyone agrees to keep walking anyway.
After a while, we stumbled across what I can only describe as Caleb University’s version of the Grand Canyon.
Not the actual Grand Canyon.
Relax.
Just… a really deep drop.
Maybe ten feet.
Deep enough that you wouldn’t want to fall accidentally.
Shallow enough that confidence starts whispering,
“You can make that.”
Now, here’s the thing about being in a group.
Common sense becomes a committee decision.
And committees rarely make good decisions.
The first guy looked down.
Paused for a second.
Jumped.
Perfect landing.
I won’t lie.
It was clean.
The second guy looked down.
Jumped.
Another perfect landing.
Now there was a problem.
Because once two people have done something successfully…
Your brain starts lying to you.
“See? It’s easy.”
No.
It wasn’t easy.
It just looked easy.
But pride has terrible eyesight.
So I stepped forward.
Looked down.
Thought,
“Well… they’ve done it.”
And I jumped.
For approximately half a second…
everything was fine.
Then gravity remembered I existed.
I landed.
Not on my feet.
Not heroically.
Not even gracefully.
I landed face first.
Flat.
Like the earth personally rejected me.
My white Tommy Hilfiger shirt immediately introduced itself to the ground.
My black baggy trousers followed.
Dust everywhere.
Sand everywhere.
Dignity?
Missing.
I just lay there for a second.
Not because I was injured.
Because I needed time to process the betrayal.
How did my legs convince me this was a good idea?
The funny thing is, pain wasn’t even my first concern.
My first thought was:
“Ah.”
“This shirt.”
You know that specific pain?
Not physical pain.
Laundry pain.
The pain of knowing you’ll get back home and start scrubbing like your ancestors are watching.
Because white clothes don’t forgive.
They remember everything.
Meanwhile, my friends…
Of course they laughed.
Real friends always laugh first.
Then ask if you’re okay.
Priorities.
And honestly…
I would’ve laughed too.
Because if six of us were watching someone else do exactly what I did?
We’d still be laughing today.
Looking back, I realised something.
Nobody forced me to jump.
Nobody said,
“Joshua, if you don’t jump we’ll stop being friends.”
Nobody pushed me.
I jumped because I didn’t want to be the only one standing at the top.
Funny how that works.
Peer pressure isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it sounds like:
“Everyone else did it.”
Sometimes it sounds like:
“You’ll be fine.”
Sometimes it sounds exactly like your own thoughts.
Thankfully, all I lost was my balance.
And my clean shirt.
It could’ve been much worse.
So yes…
I learned two things that day.
First:
White Tommy Hilfiger shirts and gravity are sworn enemies.
And second…
Just because your friends stick the landing… doesn’t mean you will.
Sometimes the smartest person in the group… is the one who says,
“You people should enjoy yourselves. I’ll meet you at the bottom.” 😭
