Over a Barrel

The deafening roar of Horseshoe Falls is what draws so many people to this natural wonder each year.  I would like to say that is why I am here, but as they put the padding in a wooden barrel that will carry me over the 167-foot drop is what happens when you let your mouth overload your courage. 

Wearing my full body wetsuit, there are gawkers all around me who are watching in awe, wondering what is going to happen next.  It should be obvious.  Stupid man enters barrel, lid is fastened, followed by barrel bobbing over the precipice bringing stupid man to certain death.  There are fifteen who survived out of a much larger number that I do not recall.  I did Google it, but was deflated by the large number who have attempted and small number who walked away, if they were able to walk away.

“Buddy, we are ready.” Hans informs me as he points to the barrel with one end open now.

“I wish I could say the same.” I attempt to smile, but it appears more like a grimace.  There are two on the crew who are standing by the launch zone.  They will roll out the barrel until it contacts the rushing water.

“Mr. Saince, we are ready.” Hans urges me forward. There is a smattering of applause as I step forward and Hans helps me into the barrel.  Quickly the crew fastened the lid.

I am in total darkness now. I feel the barrel being rolled in the grass followed by a loud “Kerplunk.” There is no turning back now.  In the darkness, I let my mind travel back to the moment when I took the dare that hasn’t been done for a few years.  The past few who have gone over the falls were suicide attempts that were mostly successful.  It has been a while since someone not intending to kill themselves has gone over the falls in a barrel, I know in my heart, I have seen my last glimpse of the light in this life. 

“Buddy, have another beer.” My friend Sam Kupple says as we sit at the bar of our favorite water hole called The Rooster Coup.  Since moving to Buffalo, New York six years ago to work at the University of Buffalo student library, The Rooster Coup in South Tonawanda serves the best Buffalo wings I’ve ever tasted and it has all of the classic bar apparatus you’d expect from a working class bar including a jukebox with Hank Williams and Buddy Holly tunes in wax stacks.  This is a place where they really know your name. 

I’ve known Sam since I moved to a small place near the campus.  Both of us are cut from the same cloth and we talk about everything under the sun.  He has lived in Buffalo all his life.  He graduated from the university and his mother still lives in a big old house in Kensington. 

“I better not.” I begged off as Hank the bartender brought two more Genesee Beers. Once Hank put the bottle in front of me, I could not say no.  With thinning blonde hair, Hank has been here since he was old enough to work for his dad, Harry who passed away two years ago.  His service was attended by almost two hundred people and there were old, framed photographs of his father shaking hands with Mohammed Ali and Joe Frazier as well as Mickey Mantle and other Yankee legends.

“You can’t say no to a Genesee.” Hank smiled confidently.

“Nope.” I took another swig.

“Hey, you ever been to the Falls?” He asked.

“Believe it or not, no I haven’t.” I was sorry to admit.

“My uncle survived going over the falls.” He pointed to a picture of a man with a bald head being dragged from the river by a couple of uniformed policemen. “He did it ten years ago.  No one knew why he survived.  The weight of the water pouring over the Falls is enough to crush you like a bug, but he made it.”

I looked at the picture again.  I could not imagine the horror he must have felt as he plunged over the Falls.

“He was trying to feed a duck and got too close to the edge.  He fell in and the current caught him.” Hank continued his sordid story, “Whisked right over the edge. He never spoke about it again.  Traumatized.”

“I could see that.” Sam laughed.

“Most don’t make it, you know.” Hank shook his head.

“Even when they went over in a barrel.” Sam echoed.

Looking back on it now, this was the start of this whole horrible dare.

Professor Cornelius Hawthorne was in charge of the Literary Department.  Using his funding, he had bought many sets of books that were lent out to his students.  They would descend on the library like a horde of wildebeests, grabbing copies of the books he had assigned.  Over time, we struck up a quasi-friendship where I found out he was a distant relative of Nathaniel Hawthorne of Sleepy Hollow fame.  He was an elderly gentleman with white hair and a comb over to accompany his neatly trimmed beard.  His head was filled with volumes of useless information of which he generously shared with me.  I made the mistake of asking him about the Falls one day and for the next three hours, he poured on me, everything he knew about the falls including water pressure and gallons per minute on both the American and Horseshoe Falls.

“The Horseshoe or Canadian Falls are much more vigorous, because the American Falls have been reduced by natural erosion.” He pointed out.  “If someone were to go over the Horseshoe Falls, their chances of survival would be greatly reduced, I’m afraid.”

To compound my error, I told him about Hank’s uncle who did survive.

“Oh, I think that is highly unlikely.  I think he was telling you a tall tale.” He smiled.

“I saw a picture.” I claimed.

“Did you know?  Was it a picture of him going over the Falls?” He asked, stroking his beard with his right hand.

“No, it was a picture of policemen dragging him out afterwards.” I answered.

“I see.” He chuckled, “Police are continually grabbing would-be jumpers before they end up dashed to pieces on the rocks. I would imagine that would be more of the case.”

“Perhaps you are right.” I sighed.

“I know it.  Last survivor was a few years ago, but he will never be able to walk again.” Professor Hawthorne smiled as he nodded before standing up and departing. 

Dreams followed or rather nightmares of going over a waterfall, but to those who have never experienced Niagara Falls, the power of water is beyond description or magnitude of anything I have ever seen before.  Sam was the one who finally coaxed me into taking a trip to see them.

“These are the American Falls.” He calmly explained, pointing to Canadian side where the waterfall seemed twice as high, he added, “Those are the Horseshoe Falls.”

I stood there for a second to ponder what my eyes were telling me, but my brain was unable to process at that moment.

We ate dinner at The Rooster’s Coupe where we were served two T-bone steaks along with our beer.  Once again, unable to keep my mouth shut, I told Hank what Professor Hawthorne had told me.  He became offended that someone would doubt the story about his uncle.  I would find out this was something of a family legend that I had so carelessly discarded. 

“Good going, Buddy.” Sam shook his head after Hank had his tirade and left.

“You’ve seen the Falls.  Tell me, do you think someone could possibly survive that?” I finished my steak.

“It doesn’t matter, you hurt Hank’s feelings.  I think we’d better settle up and call it a night.” He stood up.  The guilt crushed me like the water crashing on the rocks at the bottom of the Falls.

“Hank, I’m sorry.” I said in a low voice as we paid the tab.

“A lot of people think that my story is poppycock, but you weren’t there and neither was that professor friend of yours.” He took our money and put it in the cash register. “I wish he were still alive.  He’d tell you himself.”

I walked out with my hands shoved into my pockets and Sam giving me the eye for being such a dumbbell.

“What?” I could not take his accusatory stare any longer.

“Hank is a good guy.” He opened the car door with his key fob.

”I know.” I threw up my hands and climbed into the passenger seat of his Fiat.

“His uncle was never the same.” Sam started the engine.

“Really?”

“Sure, sure.  It was a miracle he survived, but the man they pulled from the water had lost every single marble he had on his way down.” Sam shook his head and pulled out onto the street from the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“His uncle was like a vegetable.  He probably hit his head on one of those rocks.” Sam laughed.

“That’s not funny.” I stared at him.

“No, but it’s closer to the truth.” He sniffed. “People who are from around here know some of the details about it. His uncle died of an aneurysm.” Sam stopped the car in front of my apartment. “Don’t tell him I told you.  He’s pretty touchy about the whole thing.”

“Tell me about it.” I said closing the door and walking up the sidewalk path to the front door of the complex.  I lived on the third floor in a two room efficiency which was big enough to suit my needs.  With a kitchenette, plasma television, easy chair and a bed in the second room, I was living in a bachelor paradise.  I had plenty of pizza boxes stacked near the garbage can and a potted plant that had long given up the ghost when I quit watering it.  

I heard the Falls in my dreams that night.  The thunder of all that water pouring over the rocks was deafening.

“So do you think the Bills will have a decent season?” One of the students asked another as they waited to sign out the next book assigned by Professor Hawthorne.

“As good as they were last year.” The other student laughed.

“They were awful.” The first student grimaced.

“Yup, and they should be about as good as that this year.”

I would ask them who are the Bills, but I figured I had been laughed at enough lately.  

“You know, I bet I could go over the Falls in a barrel.” Hank said scratching the stubble on his chin.

“Seriously?” Sam shook his head.

“I heard about this guy who designs barrels that can withstand the kind of punishment of going over the Falls.” He put his hands on his hips and rolled on the balls of his feet.  I would never picture Hank as a vengeful man, but little did I know this at the time. “I’ll bet I could get him to outfit me in one of those barrels.”

“Foolishness.” Sam continued to shake his head.

“Somebody is offering one hundred grand for someone to try it.” Hank nodded.

“One hundred grand?” Sam asked dubiously.

“Right here.” He handed Sam the classifieds and pointed to the ad which he had circled with a pencil.

“Wow, that’s a lot of cabbage.” Sam whistled.

“Lemme see that.” I gestured to Sam to hand me the paper.  When I got it, there was the ad, just like Hank said, offering money for anyone brave enough to go over the Falls in a barrel.

A smile trickled over my face.  That much money would buy Agnes a nice ring and a wedding with all the fixings not to mention a honeymoon in Acapulco.  I held the paper for nearly a minute until I heard Sam’s voice, “Hey, you ain’t considering it are you?”

“Oh no.” I handed the paper back to Hank.

“I just don’t think I have the nerve to do this.” He sighed, “But somebody should find out.”

Now here’s the thing, classified ads don’t care what is what as long as the ad is paid for in advance.  Never in a million years would I suspect that the phone number listed in the ad was really Hank’s cell phone number.  So when I bought a newspaper and found the ad and called, a man with a foreign accent answered the phone and verified everything.

Agnes and I were going through a rough patch.  She was getting bored with my poverty and seeming lack of interest.  When I looked in her eyes, however, I saw my future children. 

That’s how it happened.  That’s how I came to be squatting in this barrel in complete darkness listening to the roar of the water as I neared the edge of Niagara Falls.

“Buddy, I just don’t know.” We sat in the small boat at the fair ready to smooch in the Tunnel of Love.  She was wearing a low cut blouse.  Her hair was all done up and she was looking beautiful to me. I could not wait until we got in the dark. 

“Sweetie, I love you.” I said trying to swing the gate in the other direction.

“Well, I dunno.  We’ve been together for over a year and you haven’t shown any commitment to our relationship.” She pouted.

“I will change, I swear.” I slid my arm around her, but she shrugged me off. 

“If we outfit you with one of our barrels, we will charge you one grand.” The man said on the phone.

“Why so much?” I was shocked.

“First, it is illegal to go over the Falls in a barrel these days.  We will have to do this when no one is looking.  This is one of those hidden fees.” His heavy New York accent made me wonder how reputable this company was. “Next, the barrel has to be loaded with impact cushioning.”

“Of course.” I agreed.

“I will have my crew load you into the barrel.”\

“Why do I need a crew?” I asked.

“Because you don’t know what you are doing.” He answered, adding, “We are professionals.”

“Very well.”

“Misser, you do not want to cut corners doing this.” He assured me.

 I hope these guys were professionals otherwise I will be on the front pager of the newspaper.  I can feel the pull of the water.  The barrel must be getting close to the edge.  I close my eyes.  My eyelids are the only protection I have now.  As the speed of the water increases, I know it’s a far, far better thing I am doing than…

The barrel stops abruptly.  My head hits the side of the barrel.  My trajectory changes.  I hear muffled voices.  While I can still hear the water, I do not feel as though the barrel is moving.  How can this be?  But now I should have gone over the edge followed by sure death and dismemberment.

There was a sudden light, a blinding light as someone removes the lid of the barrel.  The first face I see is Sam and then I see Hank.  Some of the people I do not know grab me by the arms and remove me from the barrel.  I am on dry land.  

“Just in time.” Sam shook his head.

“It was supposed to be a joke.” Hank was nearly as white as a sheet.

“You were lucky our net worked.” Sam helped me to my feet even though my knees were still wobbly.

“What about the money?” I asked.

“There was no money.” Hank bowed his head.

“Buddy!” Agnes’ voice rang out as she ran from the crowd and threw her arms around me, “I can’t believe you’d go over Niagara Falls for me.”

Her kiss was as passionate as any kiss I’d ever had up to that point in my life.

“I can’t believe how brave you were.” She kissed me again. 

Having experienced this, I can tell you how paper thin the line can be between bravery and utter foolishness.