When I was growing up in Lubbock, there was always that one friend with a terrifying backyard trampoline. You know what I’m talking about? No safety net, exposed springs that pinched your butt, one leg sunk deep into the dirt, and a constant feeling that the whole thing was about to collapse at any moment.<\/p>\n
The Trampoline House<\/p>\n
The crazy trampoline house always had a certain kind of energy around it, too. Perhaps, a sketchy dog chained to a tree, random cinder blocks you didn’t notice before you were face down in the dirt, and parents who thought yelling “y’all be careful now,” every couple of hours out the back door would actually prevent real injuries.<\/p>\n
Read More:\u00a0Running Into An Old Teacher: A Blend Of Memories And Anxiety<\/a><\/p>\n The most memorable childhood fun in Lubbock seemed to come from the most dangerous experiences. Six kids testing out wrestling moves on a used trampoline someone’s drunk uncle put together 11 years ago with duct tape and dreams.<\/p>\n Nothing could go wrong…<\/p>\n Photo by Kyrie Isaac<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>West Texas Wind + Trampolines = Chaos<\/p>\n The wind in Lubbock also took trampolines to the next level. Every neighborhood here has seen at least one trampoline take flight and land in someone else’s backyard, and yet, we never thought to tie them down. Instead, we spent hours in the backyard pretending to be storm chasers, straight through tornado warnings, practically begging a twister to whisk us and our rickety trampoline away to Oz.<\/p>\n