Published: September 01, 2009 02:23 pm      

MISTY: Zipping my way to an early grave

This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted a namesake

I always thought it would be cool to have something named after me: Like the Misty Knisely School for Kids Who Can’t Read So Good.

But I guess when I made my wish of having a namesake, I should have been more specific.

I wasn’t, and now there’s a maneuver dubbed “The Misty.”

I got my namesake — and a large collection of bruises — last week while on a Leadership Kokomo retreat at Camp Tecumseh.

Here’s how you do “The Misty:”

First, find a zip line.

Second, panic.

Third, jump off a treehouse 100 feet in the air and start zipping your way back to solid ground.

Fourth, panic.

Fifth, come in backwards for a landing.

Sixth, panic.

Lastly, don’t even bother putting your feet down, rather just skid on your backside to a stop.

Apparently all this was funny because I could hear the group laughing hysterically from across the huge lake separating us. Whatever happened to asking if someone’s OK before you bust out laughing? Seems those rules don’t apply at camp.

You know what other rules don’t apply at camp? Helping your fellow camper.

I can’t breathe for the dust bowl enveloping me and I’m dangling precariously from a rope. Over the sound of the group’s laughter, all I can hear is the repeated shutter of a camera. If there ever were a Kodak moment, I’m pretty sure this was it.

I heard later that the camp counselor told our director we owed the camp money to cover the cost of the dirt I would be taking home in my pants.

Everyone’s a comedian.

I’ll pay for the dirt, Mr. Counselor, but I’m not paying for “The Misty” plaque you want to put up.

• Misty Knisely is the Kokomo Tribune city editor. She may be reached at misty.knisely@kokomotribune.com