"Poison Johnny"

I've had Poison Ivy, and it itches. Poison Oak has burned a little and Poison Sumac is no fun to say the least. My epidermis is not too fond of the itchy poison the Botanists call Urushiol oil. Avoiding said Urushiol oil is easily done by wearing clothes that cover your skin or being careful enough to stay away from the plants that contain the ithcy poison. Myself on the other hand unknowingly did the exact opposite. This resulted in something worse than all 3 of these poisons combined, POISON JOHNNY.

Not far from where I lived there was a huge brick tunnel that was vandalized pretty frequently. Seeing how it was about 100 feet in length, only 5 feet into the tunnel on both sides had been spray painted with initials, designs, and other pointless hieroglyphics. The 90 feet of untouched tunnel was however seen by me and some friends as an opportunity. Not to be rebellious or to break the law, but to show everyone that had spray painted the tunnel before how to really get a job done. That was our only motivation, to show up the 'wannabe' vandals. We frequented the site, made strategic plans, and were ready for action.

Our first lookout, Cadby, was about 50 feet above the road on top of the tunnel standing by on a bike trail. Another few hundred feet from the tunnel, where the road turns (not visible from the tunnel) was a ditch. That was our second lookout, Dexter. Myself and the fourth person, James would actually be doing the deed. The tunnel was surrounded by woods so it was easy hiding for all of us at anytime.

A weeknight was the best choice so we combined that with a post midnight schedule to ensure the most safety possible. Everything was routine and the job was getting taken care of quite well. Anytime a car was seen in the distance, the lookouts would signal us via walkie talkie and we would sprint out of the opposite side. I'm sure not many people at this ungodly hour of the night were too concerned with looking around for lurking vandals which worked to our advantage. Everything was working as planned until about an hour into it. That's when the night got fun. And by 'got fun' I mean took a turn for the worse.

Dexter was giving his warning as usual and thinking nothing was out of the ordinary. Little did he/we know, the battery in his walkie talkie was dead. Thanks Energizer Bunny, this thing DID NOT keep going and going and going. Myself and James thought nothing too special was going on either, until we were facing headlights. This is the point where my oh so often exercised adrenal glands just opened up and immediately pumped into my bloodstream.

As I turned the other way and looked to freedom, I didn't have time to think of what to do. I was too busy showing up Carl Lewis. Thanks to 'hell week' we just went through in football, I was able to make it out of the tunnel just as my shadow was creeping up on the cement. James flies to the left, and my legs somehow hurl my body to the right. As I'm leaping to safety I'm hoping there aren't any sharp rocks, thorns, hypodermic needles, officers of the law posing as bushes, etc. Thank goodness there was none of those perilous items in this unknown territory. There were also no bushes or trees to hide me as the car now protrudes from the tunnel. Nice.

As I'm on my stomach seeing the car's lights get closer I begin to squirm as if there were barbed wires an inch above my back. My eyes are adjusting perfectly so I can see everything around me...which just so happens to be absolutely nothing. In slow motion I see the headlights getting closer. Now I'm a freaking Navy SEAL nearly cutting my arms and legs on the ground writhing for some sort of cover. At this point I'm putting Rambo to shame and about 10 feet later which I covered in about 2 seconds, I'm safe where the car can't see me just as it passes.

Now that the car is out of sight, James and I, aside from thinking Dexter had joined the dark side and set us up, in one accord go back to our job as if nothing happened. Speedily we finish the task at hand, and the four hoodlums unite after a job well done. The realization that the over use of the walkie talkies on previous capers caused the batteries to die. I'll never listen to a bunny again.

Getting home at the wee hours of the morning, though sweaty and dirty, I was a bit too tired to shower. The combination of not wanting to interrupt the slumber of the loving people that brought me into this world and my exhaustion from a rough night gave me no motivation for a washing. I would do it when/if I woke up. So the brief nap I took before school basically included more perspiration and a lot of tossing and turning. Laying in my own sweat was fun, but honestly, it was no different from any other night muggy night in the North East since we weren't like them rich folks that could afford to put air conditioners in every window in the house.

School was fun as always that next day and after school football practice was as usual but no going out later that night. It was time to do homework. And by homework I mean catching up on sleep.

The next day I woke up and my skin didn't only feel tighter than ever, it burned. Badly. It felt as if I had bathed in gasoline and then slept in the fireplace, which then blew up, was set on fire, and torched. I couldn't help but scratch it (not ITCH IT) until I realized that there were a few bumps on my arm.

Panicked, I jumped up and into the bathroom to do some inspecting. What I saw that morning was one of the more traumatizing sights I've seen in my life. The bumps I had were not just mere bumps, but gigantic bubbles surrounded by an army of guard bumps that would bully any average disgusting irritating skin rash around. Now, if that wasn't bad enough, I realized that some of the bubbles were oozing yellowish fluid and a few bumps had a red substance seeping out. If this wasn't bad enough yet, it was now time to go to school. For those that don't know me probably won't understand this, but there is absolutely nothing that can embarrass me, and of course this was no exception. However, my concern was for others safety.

As I entered my first period class I remember everyone looking and wondering what was wrong with me. Most people thought it was just another one of my jokes but I emphasized and assured them this was no gag. Throughout the day I explained the story at least 3 dozen times as well as had my story props - the paper towels I had to carry around with me so my ooze wouldn't go all over the desks or the people that dared to be within a few feet of me.

For the next 3 weeks as the Poison Johnny decreased not one bit. I had fun everyday coming home from school (football was a no-no since contact would just burst the bubbles and others would have no choice but to enjoy Poison Johnny juice in their face) and going right to the bathtub. Not to take baths like you're thinking, but baths in nothing but oatmeal. Yes, it was the only bearable time in the day I was able to not think about the P.J., though it did make me hungry. Intrigued and hungry I honestly ate some of the oatmeal while bathing in it, only to find out later that the breakfast oatmeal and bathing oatmeal are two separate oatmeals. How was a hungry itchy man supposed to know that? The pictures you can see here are actually of Poison Johnny after it had began healing dramatically but you can still note some of the bubbles and the more colorful red areas.

Man did that feel good

Mmmm...Bubbles

A fun night that will never be forgotten. Though years later the tunnel was painted over (apparently it was a big project that took community workers to clean up), my chums and I have gone separate ways and the people that drove through the tunnel that night had no clue what really took place. I still have the memories of a wonderful evening and the scars mentally of what was the worst case ever, of "Poison Johnny."

Back to: Stories