The Pants That Nearly Killed Me

A Story by hpage

Another story, a companion piece to "Train Track Creek". It involves the same characters, and the same creek and train track and hi jinks of young teenagers.

I grew up in a small town in rural-suburban Indiana. This town used to be a small community, just an Ordinary, USA scenario. However, years past by and urban sprawl set out like a creeping moss outward from Indianapolis all throughout the central portion of the state. Where there were once corn fields and cattle pastures now stand retail outlets, banks, and an armory. That town, Franklin, Indiana, is now considered a “suburb” of the capitol; it lies approximately twenty-eight miles south, and it has changed so much since my adolescent gallivanting. One aspect of this town has remained constant through this metamorphosis"there are two old train-track bridges, erected with steel and wood, and showing the oxidation of its age on the bare metal under-shadowed by unnecessary graffiti. These bridges spanned fifty and one hundred feet respectively, over separate and distant portions of a creek that sat like a slack cable through our town. During my thirteenth summer, my friends and I were stepping briskly onto the hot pine-tar-seeping wooden cross-ties that supported the smooth-topped I-beam rails of the smaller bridge.

That day I was carousing with three of my friends, Shawn, and the twins, Rich and Ron. We were four ordinary young teenagers"rebellious, awkward, carefree, bored, and all those other things that damn-near every teenage boy had ever been. Along with these shared traits, there was one other thing brought us together"we were all pretty much poor. We didn’t have jobs yet, or allowances from our parents, so we didn’t have any money to do the things other kids were doing. We didn’t go to the mall, we didn’t go to the movies, and we didn’t spend our time dining or anything else like that for that matter. We liked to be outdoors, especially during the summer. You could find us from sun up to sun down hanging out and running the roads of that town. That summer was prime-time for reckless adventures. And we took advantage of every minute that we could. We never cared for curfews or boundaries either back in those days. This adventure here though was during a clear sun-lit day. Most of our adventures revolved around this setting"those train-track bridges and that creek.

The twins were fairly tall for their age, they were also very slender which was surprising bearing in mind that their diet consisted mainly of chili-cheese burritos, Mountain Dew, and sundry Taco Bell items. Ron, the crazier of the two, on a whim discovered that on this bridge, a good seventy feet above shallow stone-filled water, he could fit between two of the wooden cross-ties. These ties were at best fourteen inches apart. Ron then discovered that he could use these ties in a fashion much like monkey-bars. He swung around under the bridge, his hands popping up over the ties around our feet, and made his way to the top of the enormous stone support of the bridge.

The space that Ron made it to was rather spacious, almost like a little cave perched atop a hill, with the wooden cross-ties steel rails right overhead. There was enough room for him to stand erect and walk casually, even to raise his arms up over his head. I stood there in awe of his accomplishment and he yelled out in his loud and obnoxious tone to his brother to join him. Rich, without wasting any time, proceeded to follow the same route his brother established. He was just as tall and slender and found that he too could fit through the cross-ties and made the trip in under a minute. There were then two monkeys in the cave atop the hill; they laughed though their overbites and enormous nostrils. Shawn and I could hear them laughing and gloating about their achievement; we were still standing there letting pine tar soak into our soles.

As one would expect in a situation such as this, newly-turned teenagers doing foolish things, of course the next action was for Shawn and I to join them"or at least attempt to. Shawn wasn’t as lanky or slender as the other two, but he was just as adventurous and managed to slowly wriggle through the ties and hoist his chunky cheeks across in the same manner to join the other two monkeys. I stood there poking at a puddle of pine tar with the toe of my shoe while whistles and hoots and hollers echoed from the cave and across the creek, bouncing off the stone face of the opposite support; taunting me with their reverberations.

Naturally, it was my turn. However, my physical characteristics, I knew from the start, would not allow me to make this trip with as little effort as the three prior. I was the largest of all of us, and quite honestly, not as adventurous as the rest. I also knew that even if I could fit I would not be able to swing myself across the ties with my hands like they did. Hell, I couldn’t even do a pull-up in gym class, how was I going to hoist my fat-a*s across a dozen ties seventy some-odd feel above a shallow rock-cushioned neck-breaking! After much reluctance and cajoling I decided to go ahead with the ridiculous endeavor. I sat down and lowered both of my feet between two ties, trying to put aside my anxiety for doing this thing"I was still not too keen on the prospect of that neck-breaking. I then braced my hands on the tie in front and squeezed my thighs down, with much friction I might add. I pants would bunch up with the downward motion and I would have to reach down between the ties and pull the bunched up fabric taught again. I did this until my thighs were clear; my rear was a great challenge as it required much effort on my part.

I was through clear up to my sagging gut and my original thought was reinforced"this wasn’t going to be possible. The three monkeys behind me were snickering and asking less-than-sincerely if I needed help. My anxiety and fear turned to proper annoyance and disdain for the task. I opted to say screw it, and tried pulling myself out from between the ties. To my best attempt I could not break free; the buckle of my belt had become stuck under the edge of the tie in front. Every time I pulled myself the buckle hit the tie and would pull back. Because of the compression on my spongy flesh, the parts of my body directly under the tie kind of expanded once they were forced through. As I struggled, the backside of my belt, along with the waist of my jeans became stuck under the tie behind me. I was now in a situation much like an umbrella that someone is trying to pull through a window.

I hung there assessing the circumstances that I had allowed myself to become victim of. The three monkeys hollered suggestions about how to alleviate the situation"none of which seemed fruitful or well-thought. During a slowly heating banter between my friends and me, I noticed off in the distance a faint light between the rails. It sank in just as quick as the stunt went south"it was a train, and it was heading my direction. I can only estimate that it was a few miles away, but it was close enough for me to see its headlamp during a solid afternoon sun and to feel a slight vibration within the rails. My anxiety and annoyance quickly turned to panic as I hollered down to those three monkeys the facts of the situation that I had found myself in.

I thought to myself how silly it would be for people to hear that I had been killed by a train on account of my pants. I didn’t want to die like that, and it would have been much more embarrassing than what I decided to do next. I released my grip from the tie with one hand and reached down to unfasten my belt and pants. I yelled out to the other three, to scale down the slightly wooded hill that tapered from the top of the track down to the creek, and catch my pants. I wiggled my bulky self just enough to allow them to slide down my hips and past my knees. I’m fairly certain, thinking back now, that it must’ve looked ridiculous to see a pair of chunky legs with pants around the ankles hovering above that creek. Naturally, I had to remove my shoes to get these pants off completely. So, I loosened one shoe with the other, and kicked it through the air over to the bank and let that pant leg fall feely. I then loosened the other shoe with the bare foot and kicked it in the same manner as the first"trying to keep possession of the pants on one ankle.

Finally, I kicked my leg as hard as I could to fling the pants to the bank to my now awaiting friends. With these hazardous leggings now gone, I was free to pull myself up and out of the ties, not without resistance though. Luckily there was time enough for me to scurry myself back down the track and jump down to the side, atop the enormous stone support. This short burst of a panicked sprint was made all the more hazardous by almost losing my footing on one of the ties and nearly letting one foot fall through. A near miss at a broken ankle was very appreciated and I regained my feet and leapt from the steel rail. The rail was now reverberating even more so than before, telling me that the train was approaching the bridge. We still had a brief moment though before that occurred.

Panicked and breathing very heavily, I called down to my friends to throw me up my shoes and pants, they did, and after a few attempts and failed catches I received my clothing. One shoe damn-near found a new home entangled in a mess or branches, but lucky enough it fell back down to the rocks below. Before I could put the hazardous leggings back on the bridge started to rumble. I knew this was the moment"the train caught up with us. I crouched down to make myself as small and as safe as I could, and held my ears. The trains’ horn blew three hearty blows and the heavy iron locomotive rumbled and rattled across the rails"my head, wrapped in my pants to muffle the deafening sounds, barely three feet from its driving wheels.

After much heckling and jeering I was redressed, caught my breath, and those three monkeys and I were laughing about the situation. Once again we obliged to soaking our soles in pine tar as we continued our trek across town. Shawn still likes to tell this story, with beaming pride he recollects the day his big fat buddy was almost killed by a train because of a pair of pants. I happened to mention to him the other day that I was writing this story and he exploded in laughter"as he always does"and the jeering continued. I think now that I am glad that those pants caused me so much trouble. I am glad that I did not make it through those cross-ties. If I had made it through I surely would have come to some sort of injury, as I did not contain within myself the upper-body strength necessary to hoist myself by my own hands from tie to tie. I recall as well barely even being able to to a single pull-up in gym class during that time"that is another embarrassing story that my weight allowed. That moment, with the pants and the train, was just a break in our day though, a derailing if you will, from our usual modus operandi"we were out looking to score some cigarettes, man.