Shooting the Tube

I met Rachael at some church function, and I asked her out on a date.  I felt a little weird because she was really young.  I was 26 or 27 and she was about 21.  Not a huge age difference, but enough where within some conversations you could really tell there was an age gap.  Another factor worth mentioning was her physical stature.  She was very petite.  Tiny little blond girl, and possibly about 110lbs. 

I can’t remember what we did on our first date, but it wasn’t as memorable as to what happened on our second date.  All I remember from our previous date is that we both seemed to like each other, and we were both excited for another date.

Rachael was roomates with 2 or 3 other girls on campus housing, and I met a few of them when I picked Rachael up for our second date.  I must have set off one of her roommate’s  “creeper radar” because she had asked me a few times how old I was, and asked many details about what we were going to do and where we were going.  The plan was to go visit a friend’s apartment that had a rooftop pool on the building, and spend some time up there with others at a pool party.  After that, we were going to go “shoot the tube”, and if we had time, perhaps go have a bonfire up in the mountains. 

We were off that afternoon, and had fun at the pool party.  I only knew a few people there, but Rachael seemed to warm up to most people and enjoy socializing.  It wasn’t every day you could be swimming on top of a high building in downtown Salt Lake City!  After an hour or two, we left to go “Shoot the Tube.”  This activity is something that is popular with young people done in the hot summer months.  There is a ¼ mile long conduit that runs underneath I-80 that channels the flow of a creek.  The water is typically very cold from the snowmelt, but during very hot summer days the water is tolerable.   Where the creek enters the conduit, aka, tube, there are large boards that can be placed to dam up the water from passing under the highway.  When you block off the water for several minutes, the water backs up considerably.  When the water achieves a certain level, someone will release the boards, and a cascade of water will “shoot” people riding plastic or foam sleds through the tube at a frightening velocity.  A fun, cheap waterslide. 

We hiked down to where the creek exited the tube, and set some of our stuff down.   We took some cheap plastic snow sleds up with us to the other side and proceeded to dam up the water.  As the water level slowly started to build, a few more kids joined in to help keep a good water seal with the boards.  About 15 minutes passed, and we were about ready to dump the boards.  We all excitedly got in position on our sleds.  Rachael sat in front of me on my sled, and some other friends were ahead of us, along with the new kids at the very front.  Right before we were going to drop the boards, about 5 extremely heavyset hairy guys barreled down, and took position right behind us.  Before I could suggest they go up front, they tripped the boards over.  It was too late. 

A small tsunami of freezing cold water lifted us up, and accelerated us rapidly down the tube.  Screams echoed and reverberated in the enclosure, partially drowned out by the crashing sound of water.  It was exhilarating watching the tiny circle of light at the end grow larger and larger.  At the last brief moment when we exited the tube, there was a rush of hot dry air before hitting the icy cold swirling pool below.  Rachael went under first, and me right behind her.  I tried my best to push her away from the incoming freight train of hairy biomass shortly behind.  I wasn’t very effective because it felt like someone dropped a half dozen elephants on my back under water.  My ankle got twisted and bent the wrong way in the rocks below, and my head got sandwiched between another rock and some guy’s lower back.  I managed to stumble up and out of the freezing water, gasping for air.  As I struggled to regain my balance with my twisted ankle and dazed state of mind, I looked around frantically for Rachael.  I didn’t see her anywhere.  The large guys hooted in celebration, jokingly thanking me for breaking their fall.   Then I saw her, or I saw a golden flicker of light swirling in the pool below.  It had to be Rachael’s hair.  I dove in after her.  I managed to retrieve her body, and pulled her to the surface where she coughed and gasped for air.  I tried to carry her up the slippery rocks but my recently twisted ankle and numb extremities made this a bit more difficult than I imagined, and I was less than graceful in my stumbling.  

One of the bigger guys suddenly realized that there was an emergency, and assisted me carry Rachael to the warm rocks by the shore of the stream.   I wrapped her with a towel, and she was barely responsive and going into shock with her skin cold to the touch.  I pulled her close to me to exchange some body heat, since the effort of pulling us to the shore was enough to get my metabolism kicked into high gear. When Rachael started coming around more, she pulled me closer for more heat.  I noticed she might have a cut on her head because I saw blood.  When I wiped it away I realized the the blood was actually mine.  I had a small but deep cut on my under arm, and several more cuts on my twisted ankle and leg.  My skin was either still too numb to care, or the adrenaline was too intense for me to notice minor pains involving cuts.  Panic started to subside as Rachael started feeling better, and we waited around until she felt comfortable being on her feet.  Aside from being a little banged up and recovery from the temperature shock, she appeared to be in good health.  I didn’t want to risk anything, so we packed our things and I was going to take her home.  Rachael protested, and was looking forward to having smores by the fire up in the mountains as promised earlier.  After an extensive, yet moderate debate, she refused to surrender for the evening so we departed to go have a bonfire.

We made it up to an area overlooking the Kennecott Copper Mine, and got a fire going as the stars came out.  Rachael and I were with my cousin and friend who were also enjoying the evening.  A warm fire, plenty of stars, ghost stories, and roasted marshmallows!  Good times!  Rachael seemed to be in great health, and even got a little cuddly later in the evening.  Around 10 or 11pm we decided to start heading back.  At this point Rachael noticed her phone had been off the entire time.  She turned it on and received several dozen voicemail notifications.  As she listened to each message, they increased dramatically in severity.  Rachael’s roommates were concerned about her and panic spread when they were not able to get a hold of her.  The roommates called her parents, and her parents left a few panicked voicemails.  From then on there was talk about her roommates contacting the police and a possible missing persons report.  I overheard a recording of one of her roommates saying, “Ok, I’ve got his Myspace profile, and we’ve given it to the cops.  Don’t worry Rachael!  We’re going to find you!” 

Several phone calls later on the drive back to campus eventually got things straightened out.  I could overhear the anger and hostility of her overly protective roommates.  I’m just glad she didn’t go into details about the near-drowning and hypothermic shock incident.  I dropped Rachael off without much incident, but that was the last date we ever went on.  Even though she seemed willing later on, the whole series of events were pretty intense, especially the whole almost-dying part.  Rachael’s roommates and friends were very influential to her, and were constantly giving me sneering expressions whenever I’d see them at any church function.  Soon, most of their web of female social circles avoided eye contact with me or casually whispered behind my back whenever I was in the same area.  One time I heard, “Yeah, that’s the guy who they called the cops on.”  Almost nobody in that church ward would speak other than a few words to me ever again.

Mormon female gossip.  Yet another reason I never responded well to the Utah Mormon Culture.