When you look at me, you probably don’t see a rebel at first. That skinny, tall, white boy with the cheery smile and sunny disposition? This kid is about as innocent as they get. Well, I am here to tell you that I am actually a master rebel, a cunning, mischievous, devil-child who, if his parents found out what he does at night, would definitely be grounded forever.
   
Now, this may be an exaggeration, but there have been a few times that I’ve defied authority. Then again, none of them were quite as memorable as that one chilly Friday night in January.
   
I was having a sleepover with my best friend Mack at his house, and we had been planning this stunt for quite some time already. You see, our hometown is small, forgettable, bland, and in every way, utterly unremarkable. But a compelling rumor had been circulating here for years that added some excitement to our orderly and predictable lives: Apparently a few years ago, two boys had achieved the impossible feat of climbing up the town’s water tower, making them instant heroes amongst their friends. Mack and I had vowed that we would prove our manhood by accomplishing exactly that: Climb the water tower.

The tower presided on top of our favorite sledding hill, a gargantuan, sloping mound of earth that dominated our unassuming little town with its sheer massiveness, the power of Mother Nature far outdoing that of our docile city. At the top of this hill sat our white behemoth, our Moby Dick, our Holy Grail. The water tower stood as tall and as proud as a Greek deity, seeming to look down with scorn at the pathetic mortals below it. It was surrounded by a thirteen foot tall electrified fence with barbed wire on top, an impregnable fortress that you’d have to be either incredibly brave or just plain stupid to attempt to infiltrate. It was considered a crime, of course, and fines charted up to 10,000 dollars. Whenever Mack and I had walked past the tower, we looked at each other knowingly.
   
Oh yes, we were going to do this.
   
We had planned everything down to the last detail. We had rubber gloves for climbing the electric fence, thick hoodies and leather jackets to cushion against the barbed wire, and of course the feeling of invincibility that comes with being a rebellious teenager. We sat in Mack’s room that night playing Mega Man, waiting for his parents to stop watching family sitcoms and fall asleep, waiting to escape and defy all law in town. Mack’s dad, a hulking and intimidating man that I had affectionately dubbed “Shrek,” walked in and told us he was going to sleep. Before he left, he grumbled “no leaving the house tonight. If you do, I’ll know.” We nodded obediently, and went back to our video games. In reality, our hearts were pumping raw adrenaline through our veins like a Formula-one car revving up for a race. We were going to do this!
   
Flash forward to two hours later. Having beaten Mega Man twice in a row by now, we were sure that Mack’s parents were asleep. It was time to get ready. I couldn’t help but picture badass montage music in the background, and I felt like I was suiting up for an epic battle. Us against the law -  I felt like such a rebel.
   
Mack and I snuck out of the house as quietly as little spiders, picking our way carefully down the steps with utmost caution. We couldn’t mess this up. If anyone knew we left the house, we’d be in trouble. Shrek was pretty clear on that point. But when we got out of the house, we transformed from spiders to panthers. We sprinted through the dark town at 3:00 in the morning, jumping and yelling our barbaric call to the world. Tonight, we were no longer ordinary teenagers. We were forces of nature: fire, lightning, wind, earth, and ice, unstoppable in our sheer velocity and strength. Tonight, this town was ours!
   
With all our sprinting and chanting, it only took us about ten minutes to get to the water tower. As we approached the fence we both quieted down, taking in the sight of the water tower’s monumental beauty, its husk gleaming like polished bone in the ethereal moonlight. This was when the real fun began.
   
As we stood outside the fence, we realized that climbing this was going to be a true test of our determination. Looking up at it, the fence seemed a lot taller than I had pictured it in my head, and the sign saying Danger: 50,000 volts was extremely unnerving. I didn’t feel very secure in the fact that my thin rubber gloves were the only things standing between me and being turned into an extra crispy fried value meal. Just to add insult to injury, there was barbed wire all over the top of the fence, resting in tangled savage clumps like metal weeds. That just seemed to be overdoing it. I mean, if you already charged the fence up with enough electricity to kill an elephant, why in the world did you need ten miles of barbed wire on top?
   
Luckily, Mack and I realized that the fence was surrounded by forest, and clearly someone had not been taking care of the overgrowth very well. In one spot, a tree actually stretched its branches tentatively over the fence, giving us an easy route in. We simply climbed the tree, walked carefully on the branch, and dropped down on the other side. Bingo! We were in! No electrified death-fence could stop us now! Mack and I high-fived each other and laughed giddily. We were absolutely the biggest rebels ever! We gazed at the water tower, looming over us like a proud sentinel, and nodded at each other. Time to climb this baby.
   
Walking as if in slow motion, we strutted to the tower’s base and looked for the ladder. Then looked some more. Circling around the entire base frantically, I could feel my breath catch in my throat, feel my heart stop as I tried to register the impossible. There was no ladder! How could we climb the tower without a ladder? The only ladder in sight started thirty feet up the tower, and that just seemed to be a cruel joke. I felt that in that moment the tower was making fun of us, a smug smile on its ivory face as it laughed at those naive teenagers who thought they could best it.

Mack and I cursed every last curse we knew and when that wasn’t enough, we just stood there in silence and clenched our fists, the mists of our freezing breath turning into smoke in our mouths. Empty handed and robbed of our glory, we turned back to the fence. Only now, all of the trees were on the other side, and the branches were too high to reach. We were trapped. The only way out was to climb the fence, to brave the lethal electricity and somehow avoid the Armageddon of barbed wire. The death-fence was not done with us yet.
   
Mack went up first, and I spotted him to make sure he didn’t let any bare skin touch the fence. The way he put it, his life was essentially in my hands. No pressure, right? So when I saw his pant leg lift and his bare leg brush against the gleaming metal of the fence, naturally I shouted to him in panic. But, to our surprise, nothing happened. Mack tested it, and then me, and we realized that the fence wasn’t electrified. Awesome! Maybe they just didn’t keep it on all the time. Mack then managed to nimbly get over the barbed wire, ripping his jacket in a few places but otherwise unscathed. He gave me the thumbs up from the other side of the fence, grinning like a madman at his brush with death. Clearly this could be done.

Now it was my turn. Cracking my knuckles, I shimmied up the fence easily and tried to climb over the barbed wire like Mack had. But as I reached the top, my left wrist got stuck in the hooked metal. I tried to pull it free and could feel the metal sink deeper into my wrist. Searing pain overtook my arm and in a moment of panic, I tore my wrist free with pure force. Almost immediately I felt a warm stream of blood flow down my arm. I jumped off the fence quickly and landed next to Mack. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Of course, I’m fine. Just a little cut,” I said, attempting to sound casual even though my teeth were chattering and the pain was making me dizzy. My trembling right hand tried to stifle the large flow of blood furiously pouring out of my left wrist. Whoa, this was deep. Mack took off his scarf and wrapped it tightly around my wrist to stop the bleeding but there was nothing he could do to alleviate my pain and embarrassment. I was just glad that it was too dark for him to see the tears welling up in my eyes.

I still carry that wound’s mark today, and it will forever remind me of our failed rebellious moment, of the taste of utter defeat in our mouths as we trudged back home that night. Neither one of us ever mentioned climbing the water town again. Even master rebels have their limits.