To start off I'm going to give some backround information to set the mood of this story. Me and my friends live in a very rural town where there is no urban rail within 40 miles. Comming across a hittable urban rail around here is so rare that not one of our friends have cleaned one ever, so just the thought of hours work of shoveling and prepping just for the chance at doing one rail was an un-reachable fantasy of satisfaction seeked by everyone. This was about to change in the summer of last year.
Every year the students at our highschool, in order to graduate as a senior, have to do this thing called a senior project. One student decided to build a walk bridge from the upper parking lot to the lower parking lot, which where seperated by a mucky little stream. Upon completion of his project came birth of a 30ft. long, flat wooden rail; our very first and only urban rail. Everyday walking up to the upper parking lot I would gently drag my hand across the rail dreaming of one day greasing it and with that the title of being the first one out of the school to have slid an urban rail. This daily ritual continued through the fall season until my chance to make my dream become a reality arose.
It was around noon time, blue sky, raw and cold outside with far less than par snow to work with. So basically in other words it was just another east coast winter day. Armed with a shovel, a bar of cheap rub-on wax and my car blasting tunes out of open doors, I got to work. After almost 3 hours of building up a decent kicker and run-in out of crusty, somewhat grainy snow and waxing up the rail, my dream was about to become a reality. First hit, didn't even make it on the rail, back ski catches and less than gracefully fall off onto the wooden deck. Not phased at all by the conditions that where handed to me: little speed, bad snow conditions, kicker 2 ft. shorter than the rail, I was just happy to be there having that opportunity.
Try after try I continued to even get close to sliding half the rail. I wouldn't admit it to myself but this rail was really kicking my ass, rejecting me at every attempt. Around the 7th or 8th attempt, I noticed a lone car, unmarked police car, sitting no more then 50 yards. away from me watching me hike back up to the top of the in-run like a hawk about to swoop in on it's unsuspecting prey. Common sense got the better of me and before the car moved, I took off my skis to go meet my inevitable fate of being thrown of the premisis.
Within a few days the word of my attempts on the rail filled my friends with the ambition to do the same. Through the magic and wonders of internet, we organized a time and date to finally put this rail to rest. The date was set for a month later at the annual winter dance held at the school itself which seemed like a perfect time because all the faculty and staff, along with the police where tied up in the dance so no chance of being busted. The date was set, people where going to be there, the snow conditions where going to be much improved and no risk of the po-po, seemed like the perfect plan.
Once again my daily ritual continued of dragging my hand across the rail thinking of that night where we would actually be able to grease our first urban rail. The night came and we all met at the upper parking lot just as the dance was supposed to begin. Talking to each other, I have to admit we where about as giddy as a bunch of highschool girls on prom night. The work began and about as quickly as we where shoveling, the cars came rolling in past us dropping off kids to the dance. Every car that came in that parking lot made our hearts skip a beat in fear that one of them was going to shine blues and end our night and ruin the well thought out plan all in under 30 seconds.
"Too many kids are talking, this isn't going to work." My friend warned us about all the kids that payed us a visit before walking into the dance. Regardless, this was just too great we continued shoveling until it was all set. With a more than ideal run-in, kicker and car headlights for light, it was go time. Out of the three of us (only two twin-tippers in the school, and one snowboarder) we got a fair share at attempting the rail. At one point we where sliding about half of it which just built us up to try and try again. This was soon to end as too much attention was drawn to us and my friend's premonition soon came true. One of the school's staff came out and broke it up for us to later find out that one of our own snowboarding friends betrayed us and ratted us out to the staff at the dance. The only choice we had was to go and enjoy the dance fully equipped in our snow gear or head home (which all did except for me). The whole duration of the dance I sat outside at one of the available picnic tables and just stared at that wooden rail that has plagued and taunted me all winter. Eventually I admitted defeat and headed to sleep it off and leave it as just another failure... Well until next winter at least.
