Tonight's episode of Fear Factor is sponsored by Molson...

The layout of the Knowlton Pub is one of those things that every card-carrying townshipper has commited to memory. A good townshipper can walk blindfolded from the front door, tour the downstairs bar, pass the dancefloor, swing back & up the stairs, hit Lindsey's old bar (if the management has had the balls to open it for the evening), head back down & out the Bistro door to the parking lot and peg the front door of the playhouse with an empty Molson Dry bottle at forty paces (...they still seem to think they're friggin' Stratford or something) using nothing but the sounds of the DJ behind him and the underage dudes filling their pitcher from their case in the trunk at the very back of the lot. A hammered 16-year-old from Foster has better SONAR than the US navy. These guys make dolphins nervous.
The Booner, however, took it upon himself to memorize the exterior and landscape with a precision that an architect wouldn't bet his quart over, much less his life. He knew which roof to hang out on when he needed a quiet moment, which window to get there through, and where to hop off when the staff caught him there. As we sat at the table on a hot summer evening, pounding back the highest octane available in those days, eloquently spouting the wonderfull wisdom/bullshit our young brains could wrap itself around, Boon decides he has had enough. Screw all of you. There are ladies downstairs that are in desparate need of his company and he doesn't have time for mundane details like, for instance...stairs. He calmly says "Goodbye..." and launches himself out the second floor window without a hint of warning, disappearing into the air of a humid summer evening. If he looked outside for a second to guage the length of the roof, the drop, or where he'd land, I didn't catch it. Sure enough, I found him by the dance floor downstairs without a mark on him wondering what took me so long (I did need a fresh beer after all). Classic bulletproof Booner.