I never really thought about it before, but I've done some fairly risky things in my time. Most of these things took place when I was about 17 or 18, and it's kind of weird for me to think of them because I'm not a risk-taker. One of my gifts/curses is the ability to visualize the worst possible scenario in any situation, right down to the color of the fingernail polish on the severed hand laying in the ditchwater. Such a talent makes for a fairly cautious person.

Back then, however, I did things that I thought were fairly safe at the time, but now I recognize them as Darwin Award potential.

For example, I once took a running leap off of the pier in Canal Park. I remember that it was nighttime, but it must not have been very late because crowds of tourists were standing around gawking, I wasn't the only one who jumped. But I remember someone saying that if you actually jumped into the canal itself, you'd probably die. The trick was to jump off the other side, into the icy waters of Lake Superior itself. There, the undertow wasn't that bad. I don't know how true this logic is. All I know is that I had to run and leap forward so as not to hit the sloped wall of the pier. And I also remember being underwater for a very long time before I made it back up to the surface.

One several (I'd say at least five) occasions, I crept along the third-storey ledge of an abadoned building in order to climb in through a broken window. Sure, the ledge was fairly wide, but it was also covered in sandstone grit and pigeon droppings. Aside from the dangers of the building itself, this was pretty stupid, especially when you consider that there was an open fire-escape door on the opposite side of the building that we didn't discover for a couple of months after first exploring the place.

Once I walked across a deep ravine while balancing on a couple of rails. I'm not sure what purpose they served, but for some reason there were two rusty railroad rails (sans ties) about a foot apart spanning a very deep ravine in the woods. I'd say the ravine was about 150 feet across. It was nighttime, and it was the middle of the winter. I put one foot on the rails, then thought, "Hm. Looks like I'm gonna cross this thing." The tops of nearby trees were about level with my thighs. When I got to the other side, I realized that I had just done something very stupid.

There are other things. Riding on a couch chained to the bumper of a car. Climging things that shouldn't be climbed.

When I was about six years old, I decided to conduct a really stupid experiment. Every time I ran down the stairs at our house, I would jump off the second step at the bottom. One day, I said to myself. "Every time I run down the stairs today, I will jump off the first step. Then tomorrow, I'll jump off the second step. The day after that, I'll jump off the third step. I'll keep doing this and see what happens."

I knew that as soon as the number got above five, I'd be risking it. I knew that eventually, I would bite it: land half-assed on the steps, fly forward and hit my head on the wall. But see, I really wanted to know what number this would occur at. I needed to quantify the danger.

I think I made it to the seventh day when I woke up, ran down the stairs and, well, you can imagine the rest.

It's amazing that anyone lives to be an adult.