Opening Volley
By David Lewis |
|
MEMO: Expense Requests for 614 June
Boss Man,
We need these things. Trust me. I have a Good Plan. These are Critical Acquisitions.12 gauge shotgun shells -- $19.95
Propane Tank refill - 5 gal -- $25.00 (approx.)
1 package red phosphorus road flares -- $6.00
1 inflatable sex doll -- $19.95, $30.00 for model with "realistic eyes"
(I am not wed to the realistic-eye upgrade. We just need her for a stunt double. We might even be able to take her back for a refund, assuming it survives the fall.)12-pk Budweiser -- $13.99
optional - teal bikini (see samples) $30? (we could get a used one, I guess.)
David S. Lewis - editor in chief
Photo: Christopher Atwood
I was stunned at how many of these critical items were rejected by the expenses committee. I understand that times are hard, but we were trying to do an Adventure Issue, by Gum. We needed some Action.
It is important to me that I accompany the writers on as many adventure stories as possible. When Chris Atwood and I joined Liza Alwes for the scuba shot, I was bitten horribly on the finger by a spiteful smallmouth bass. Obviously, I took the first jump off the bridge, just to make sure it was safe. I took the helm of the pontoon boat, generously provided by Stephen Cross and his marina, for the jetski and fishing stories. As a veteran of the U.S. Navy and would-be pirate, I feel quite at home on the water; poor Chris Atwood and his million-dollar camera skittered to and fro across the deck as I tried to keep up with Derik Burkholder on the jet ski.
We were a little under-manned for some of the shots. When Chris and I went to get pictures of skeet shooting, we realized that someone would have to take the picture, someone needed to pull the cord on the machine that throws the pigeons, and someone would have to shoot the gun. I ended up holding the camera with the cord to the contraption tied to my belt, while Chris, who had never fired a shotgun, proceeded to miss every single pigeon . . . but for one. One glorious moment, the machine's clang followed by the resounding roar from the gun, and the satisfying orange burst of clay flecks scattered across the sky - Victory.
Our staff had several discussions about what constitutes an adventure. Luckily for them, I am pro at these things. From rodeo riding to hurricanes, Mexican riots to U.S. presidential campaigns, I have sought adventure my entire life. The most important element, as I define the word, is that of danger. If there is no danger, than it's not an adventure. Walking your dog is not an adventure. Walking your bomb-sniffing dog is an adventure. I know these things.
I seem now to be embarking on another kind of adventure altogether: I think I am falling in love.
It's terrifying. I nearly wrecked my slow-ass minivan last night, daydreaming of being somewhere other than the driver's seat. Awkward and new, this might be the one that ends me. It nearly ended the portly shrieking pedestrian, who also got a kind of adventure out of it.
Columbus and its surrounding area are ripe with adventure potential of all kinds - it just takes a little looking. Have fun, and stay safe . . . but not too safe. It's the adventures you aren't looking for that are truly dangerous, anyway.
- David S. Lewis, Editor-in-Chief
Originally Published: June 1, 2009
