I wish I could take credit for this, but I can’t. At least, I say I can’t…and I’ll go to my grave sticking by that story.

Many years ago, a good friend of mine moved to Boston. Obviously, moving from the South, to Boston, was guaranteed to be traumatic. And it was, but that’s another story.

He had an old Southern home with an extraordinary upstairs bathroom that had a tub with feet, and a sink with one leg, which had a foot with toes. The hot and cold faucet controls were left and right hands. It was, without a doubt, the most interesting bathroom I’d ever used. We did some crazy things in there. I mean, come on, a sink with hands, and a leg and toes. The girls use to paint ‘em foo foo colors…the fingers and toes that is. We even put a cast on that leg one night, and we all signed it. Sick, don’t you think.

My friend had already moved, so we decided to break on in to the other side and, basically, pinch the sink, and ship it to him. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The house was locked, but we had a key. We entered through the back door. Duh!

The next thing I knew, we were upstairs in the bathroom, with flashlights beaming, laughing our asses off, and yanking that damn sink out. I’ll admit I’d never stolen a sink before.

We now have a freestanding sink, but never thought about how to get it down the stairs. No problem…all we need is a 4X4 piece of plywood, and we’ll be good to go. I’m not going to tell you where we got that, but suffice to say, we had to break out the toolbox.

We’re standing at the top of the stairs, doing the math, and dumbass me volunteered to “ride it down”. Stupid.

The plan was: for me to sit in the sink, hold the ropes that we’d attached to everything, and guide it as I was being lowered to the first floor by my faithful buddies.

Break: This damn sink weighed about a thousand pounds.

So: My ass is in the sink…they move me to the top stair…and shit happens.

They: Let go of the lines.

Next: My young ass is riding the sink down the damn stairs, and it only took a couple of seconds before I was unconscious, I think.

Me and the Sink: Crashed through the front door, which was closed and locked with a deadbolt, breaking all the windows and glass panes, and down five steps into the front yard. Man…that hurt.

Next: I was cut and bruised, laying in the damn front yard with a sink, while my friends were laughing so hard they couldn’t come to my aid. Damn!