Barreling down the dirt road in my SUV, (occasionally throwing chunks of dirt and gravel into the air as my off-road tires spun) I could see my destination through the leaves of the surrounding trees and bush. An outdoor light shined down on a stone patio just next to an outdoor building whose walls were only half built. Here and there, I could catch glimpses of the teenagers sitting in a circle there.

The campsite was a popular party site for teenagers…and I was familiar with it because I was a teenager once myself. And now I was elected by the group of worried parents to go down and check on the party. Not because I was the most responsible, but because none of the kids were mine, and it would look more natural (I’m not sure why none of the parents dared to let their kids know they wanted to spy on them…my own kids know without a doubt that I’m always watching.).

All was Well

As I pulled up, I was surprised to see the well behaved group split into three sections. One was sitting around the fire, poking at it with sticks or holding their hands up to warm them. Another was sitting beneath the shelter planning their graduation party. And another was playing corn-hole.

Hmmm…my suspicions were screaming at me. It wasn’t at all like the parties I used to have there. I asked and was told that no one was out on the trails four-wheeling. I was told that there was no one down by the river. I made a head count and compared it against the invitation list. There were two extras in the crowd, and they told me John had brought two friends.

Not What I Expected

Now I was just confused. I was sent there to settle them down…to keep the parents from having to make a hospital trip. But no one was doing anything dangerous. They were out in the middle of the woods, and it looked like an adult’s backyard barbeque!

I started thinking about my own adventures there. We had a forty foot high rope swing that had caused at least two broken bones (a third one was attributed to alcohol and not the swing itself). We used to buy a junk car for each party and run though the trails until someone crashed or flipped it. In the middle of January, we would run through the trails in our shorts, jump into the river, and try to get back to the fire before loosing body parts from frostbite. And those were just the mild escapades.

Here these teens were, and not a wild whoop or yell from any one of them. Even the music was turned considerably low. Where was their sense of adventure? Where was the youthful spirit that I was supposed to restrain? It was like they needed to be jump started.

“Hey,” I said, “I’m gonna’ run through the trails…who’s comin’?” They all looked at me like I had two heads. When I had parties, that kind of offer turned into fights as young men/boys (some of them out for kicks and some of them showing off their daredevil courage in front of the chics) fought for room inside and on top of the vehicle. I myself had bragging rights to several scars from the thorns of passing branches.

But none of them wanted to ride…they were just as happy to sit calmly by the fire. My report to the parents didn’t seem to trouble them. As I talked about my own worries to one of the fathers, he simply replied that today’s kids aren’t as wild as we used to be. In his mind, it was a good thing.

And Now the Truth

Several days later, I found out the truth. The reason the teens were so tranquil, was because they had fooled their brains into thinking they were having fun. They were high on some sort of drug (one of the newer ones and I’m not sure which).

And now to my point about this article. The danger of drugs. The one that few scare campaigns are addressing. It’s not about all the horror stories we grew up hearing. It’s not about the danger of over-doses. It’s not about the life long addictions. It’s about how much they miss out on while using. It’s about the fountain of youth that turns into a shallow pool of stagnant water.

If there’s one thing from my teenage years that I would love to regain, it’s that wild search for adventure. Some might call it thrill seeking, I called it fun. But these drugged up teens will never have those memories. If they ever do get off the drugs, they’re likely not to have the slightest idea of what it meant to be young.