Connect with stories

One day at lunch, a group of us at work were debating what was more fun: going out at night as a kid or as an adult. I told a story from when I was in high school.

It was Friday night and nine of us were at a friend's house. His mum was staying at her boyfriend's, so we had the place to ourselves. As usual, we sat around listening to music until someone suggested an idea. Being teenagers with limited options, any idea — no matter how stupid — became the plan. That night's idea was to throw water bombs at a bus.

We filled buckets with balloons and headed out. We found the perfect spot. A nearby school on the corner of an intersection. The ground sat a couple of meters above the road. It had a waist-high brick wall to hide behind and trees that blocked street lights. We set a camp and waited. It was very exciting. Hours passed (in reality, probably ten minutes) without a single bus. Teenagers have limited patience so we started walking back to the house, disappointed.

Then, we saw headlights. A bus! Everyone froze. There wasn't time to run back to our spot. We dropped the buckets, pulled out the balloons and start throwing. Thud, thud, thud, thud. We hit the front and side like a machine gun. Then we realised — we were standing in the middle of the street, totally exposed. The bus screeched to a stop. Panic.

We ran back to the house and slammed the front door. Moments later, we heard the bus parking out of the front. In our panic, we didn't realise you could see the house from where we hit the bus. The driver knew exactly where we were and now he is walking up the driveway. Inside, chaos. Someone hissed:

Everyone scrambled to the light switches, knocking over furniture and each other in the process. When all the lights were off, for some reason, the collective intelligence of nine teenage boys decided we also needed to hit the floor as if taking cover. All the lights were off, it was dead quiet and everyone was face down on the ground. Clearly, no one was home.

From the outside the driver would have seen, through the windows, a bunch of silhouettes in a frenzy. Turning off lights, crashing into furniture, yelling at each other, then hitting the floor. Knock, knock, knock. You could feel the anger. No one moved or made a sound. Knock, knock, knock. Louder this time. Then someone whispered:

I slowly dragged myself across the carpet towards the door, keeping low. I then reached up to the lock. Knock! Knock! Knock! I freaked out and yanked my hand back to the floor. The sound turning the lock would make was too high of a risk. Now there's only an unlocked door separating me from the bus driver. I put my ear to the door and heard him take a few steps back, a bus engine starting and then driving off.

This was one of the best lunch times I've had. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. I felt closer to those people ever since.