Danged if
I know why, but the new fad of “planking” has gone
viral. For those of you familiar with corral planks,
bridge planks, and walking the plank, but confused
by this booming fad, I will explain how this
cyberspace game works: In creatively odd locations
you rigidly lie face-down down with your arms pinned
to your sides. Your buddy snaps your photo which you
then post to social networking sites. That’s it.
(Apparently, net surfers find “planking” digitally
irresistible.) “Plankings” receiving the greatest
viewership receives the grand prize of nothing at
all and with such high stakes at risk, “plankers”
are pushing the envelope of human ignorance. May
15th, Australian Acton Beale “planked” himself on
the seventh floor balcony railing of the Brisbane
Hotel and then 1.81 seconds later, “planked” himself
on the sidewalk 105 feet below. He is forever 20
years old.
I heard the radio broadcast of Mr. Belae’s
misfortune as I was racing between farm calls.
Knowing the object of the game is to be creative, I
rattled down the road looking for unique places
where I might spot a “planker.” Balanced on the top
of a fence post would certainly attract great cyber
attention but it would require someone with abs and
back muscles of steel. Then I remembered a time when
I “planked” and it was long before it was a fad, but
unfortunately it was never caught on film. Here is
what happened.
It was a Thursday, June 15th, 1995 and I was on a
farm call examining a lame bull. (I know this
because I pulled the medical file to refresh my
memory.) Bulls, just like state legislators, only
work 60 days a year, so it is critical they be able
to travel during their brief time on the payroll.
While the patient was restrained in a squeeze chute,
I scrubbed the mud and manure off his left rear leg
and discovered a deep laceration under his dewclaw.
The wound appeared to be several weeks old, was
granulating nicely, but might be helped with an
injection of a long-lasting antibiotic. I pumped
90ccs of LA-200 intramuscularly into six different
locations on this bull’s massive neck—something the
bull didn’t seem to particularly enjoy. Once the
thrashing subsided, I tripped the headcatch and the
bull jumped out of the chute.
In Disney movies, when the hero pulls a thorn from a
lion’s paw to stop the throbbing pain, the happy
lion becomes life-long friends with the hero. Such
scenarios don’t exist in real life and this bull was
on the fight. He spun around as he hit the ground
and stared right at me. We both knew what was coming
next as we each instantly calculated the distance
between us, our relative sprinting speeds, and the
paces to the nearest fence. Without bothering to
check my math, I shot out from under the chute
levers towards the fence. From the bellowing I could
tell the bull was rapidly closing the gap. I was two
steps from the fence when I felt the bull’s snot
splashing off my backside. I feared if I stepped
onto the bottom corral pole to vault the fence, the
bull would crush my legs. With no other option and
without missing a step, I dove headfirst over the
top.
If I quit here, the story has a happy ending.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. I had
miscalculated either my ground speed, or my leaping
ability and the arc of my flight dropped me square
on my ribs, perfectly balanced on the top rail. I
teetered there for a split second, when the snorting
bull smacked my legs with his head and flipped me
over the rest of the way…lucky me, only a couple
cracked ribs.
If someone could have snapped a photo of me
perfectly “planked” on top of that fence, and it had
been 2011 instead of 1995, I could have posted it to
social networking sites and won the fictitious grand
“planking” prize of absolutely nothing. Now I told
you this story so those of you who still socially
network at the Mint Bar, or here in the pages of
this paper, will know what is happening when you see
sandal wearing Subaru drivers “planked” on an
alfalfa windrow in front of your round baler. Don’t
worry, they are trying to draw cyber attention to
themselves and will leave the area the minute they
snap a couple photos.
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