As someone who works in radio, I have the privilege of working with some incredibly talented and creative people. Whether we’re thinking of cool little on-air bits, commercials for a station client or promotions for our listeners, the one constant is how much fun we always seem to have. I’ve been joking around since I got into the business that I’ll never work a real job again.
However, once in a while we run across someone or something that makes us say, “HOLY COW!! HOW DID WE NOT THINK OF THAT FIRST?!”
The Wall Street Journal had a cool little article the other day that did just that. The article was about a group of guys that have been locked in an intense game of “tag” for 23 years. No, that’s not a typo. THEY’VE BEEN PLAYING “TAG” FOR THE LAST 23 YEARS. You know “tag,” right? Kid game. Playground. One guy is “it” and chases everyone until he catches someone else, who then becomes “it.”
Obviously, it would be a little weird for a bunch of grown men to be chasing each other around on the playground. Besides, that’d be way too easy. No, my friends, these gentlemen take it to a whole new level.
One guy starts off as “it.” There are no geographic restrictions. That means that you can move to the far corners of the Earth and still play the game. For the month of February, the game is live. These guys travel around the country and show up in the most random places just to tag one of the other players (One guy sat in the bushes outside his friend’s house for 2 days. 2 DAYS!!). They enlist the help of wives and co-workers and anyone else they can find. The last one tagged stays “it” for the rest of the year.
One of the more interesting stories from the article was this one:
One February day in the mid-1990s, Mr. Tombari and his wife, then living in California, got a knock on the door from a friend. "Hey, Joe, you've got to check this out. You wouldn't believe what I just bought," he said, as he led the two out to his car.
What they didn't know was Sean Raftis, who was "It," had flown in from Seattle and was folded in the trunk of the Honda Accord. When the trunk was opened he leapt out and tagged Mr. Tombari, whose wife was so startled she fell backward off the curb and tore a ligament in her knee.
"I still feel bad about it," says Father Raftis, who is now a priest in Montana. "But I got Joe."
At 35-years old, I always get playfully teased by my girlfriend, my friends and my co-workers about never growing up. Stories like this make me smile because I know that I’m not alone.