Dumb and Dumberer

Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do

Growing up, I used to do stupid things on a regular basis that could’ve maimed me. Not accidents, these were willful acts that usually began with an “I wonder what would happen if...” proposition and ended with a wound of some sort. For example, when I was about 10 years old, a friend and I were lighting batteries on fire when one of them exploded, sending a flaming ember directly into my eye. In retrospect, I’ve learned that when lighting batteries on fire in the hopes that they’ll explode, you shouldn’t get too close to stoke the flames. Somehow, my eye emerged from the rinsing cup with no long-term damage, and I went on to conduct further important battery research. (Since batteries explode, could they be used to dynamite a tree stump?)

These days, I watch Jackass and think, “Those guys are idiots. They’re gonna kill themselves.” But when I consider all the stupid things I did before Jackass even existed, the list gets pretty long: sledding on unplowed roads using a six-foot rope tied to the bumper of a car going 40 mph; filling a boat’s gas tank about five feet away from a precariously balanced tiki torch; shooting fireworks out of a moving car; jumping a four-wheeler off the top of a gravel pit and having it almost land on me; getting a full-size truck airborne at 70 mph. And make no mistake, I’m a wuss compared to most guys I know.

Some of my friends’ achievements include eating live smelt; accidentally burning down a cemetery; tricking a roommate into shaving his nether regions by posing as a woman on Yahoo Personals; skiing into the backcountry and getting lost overnight; getting glassed in a bar fight; falling through lake ice into a hole they cut intentionally; eating yellowjackets; and putting new joints in fingers while trying to do a 360 on waterskis. They’ve punched out windows, totaled brand-new cars, and one received a standing ovation after dancing on stage at a live sex show in Amsterdam.

My point? Once in a while you need to do something stupid, or you’ll end up like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty, and snap. Since stupidity is so often bad for you either financially, physically or girlfriend-ally, if you can get away with doing something dumb without being sentenced to 40 hours of community service with the fire department, you may as well go for it. That was my thinking when my friend Whits called on New Year’s Day and began to chant repeatedly “Get…in…the…ocean.” I pleaded that I was hung over and the ocean was cold (and on New Year’s Day I was about as hung-over as the ocean is cold), but Whits just replied, “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll pick you up in 10 minutes.” I donned the fashion-forward outfit of a bathing suit, bathrobe and boots and resigned myself to a winter swim.

Here’s what you need to know about swimming in the ocean in the winter: Don’t do it unless you’re on a sinking boat, and even then you might want to just find a loaded revolver and kill yourself before the rising water reaches your nads. The sensation of cold is so intense that your nerves can’t even adequately deliver the information to your brain, which is probably how people manage to do this every year—their nervous system blows the fuse for “cold” after about five seconds in the water and they’re able to tolerate the “brutally unpleasant numbness” phase that follows. You know how if you go swimming in the ocean in the summer, you eventually get used to the water and then feel cold when you get out? That’s not the case in January. You know you’re dealing with cold water when you’re standing on the beach sopping wet and the air feels warm by comparison.

All in all, I have to conclude that swimming in the harbor in January is a completely idiotic thing to do and should be avoided if you can help it. On the other hand, I did manage to purge some stupidity without hurting anyone or getting arrested, which is preferable to letting it build until I consider truck-parasailing a good idea, as some of my father’s friends once did. (A man’s urge to act moronic doesn’t necessarily diminish with age.) So I think I’m set for a while, but some people build up dumbness quicker than others, which probably explains Whits’ new plan to swim in the ocean every month of the year. Not to tell tales, but I’m OK with that as long as it keeps him away from the yellowjackets.