Summer time as a teenager was to have a great swimming place. We had one. Dorchee Bayou north of Dixie Inn. We called it the blue hole. I never new why we called all the good swimming hole the blue hole but we did. Loaded up brothers Pontiac Chieftain with ice chest, colas and lunch and a couple of buddies and made the trip. The last few miles up a dirt road being careful not to get stuck and arrive early.

Bayou is spring feed and cool with nice swimming beach and a mighty willow tree with a rope swing. Life was grand and then a big downturn, two pickups with three guys and a woman that could be the poster child for a Jenny Craig diet ad show up. Loud, drinking beer, throwing cans on the ground and even worst playing loud Beatles music.

Well the three beer bellies start having a big time on the swing rope. Poster child was not getting enough attention so she wants to try it. With that said I got me a cold RC and gave the event my full attention.

One gets in the tree to pull and the other two push her butt up limb by limb to the take off point. She has the rope but starts to back out. The three guys encourage her and give her a Shuttle count down and she takes the bait and cuts loose. Houston we have lift off!

The mighty willow gives under the weight and she is only about ten feet off the water but nobody told her to turn loose, the mighty willow starts it recover returning to it’s original position and she is still hanging on. First bungee jump in recorded history is underway.
The rope goes slack and she turns loose and she is still going up. She looks like a Polaris missile launch from a nuclear submarine. I’m concerned Barksdale air force base is picking her up on radar.

She’s screaming and flapping her arms like a Mallard duck, if she fly’s she will nullify all the patents Boeing Aviation has on file at the US Patent service. Gravity sets it and down she comes, all three-beer bellies and the four of us rush to the impending crash. She pancakes in belly first with a thud that should have recorded at least a six on a reactor scale.

The wave action looks like high tide on a full moon coming in on Malibu beach in southern California. She is not to be seen the beer boys get there first and one dives into the bubbles and fights his way back up with her hanging around his neck. We float her to the bank looks like we are removing a logjam from the Red River. We get her beached and pump the water out and she looks like a strawberry on steroids. She lost the top of her bathing suit in the crash and leaves me with a memory I still can’t erase.

They retreat to the truck and the beast, beer and the Beatles leave. Peace returns to the bayou and we have out swimming hole back.

Buck