This is reminiscent of what happened to me
as a youth in West Texas. I had been out
hunting on the mesquite-studded plains
near Amarillo, when I misjudged the time
of day and didn't get started for home until
the sun had already gone down.
Without a flashlight, the only way I could
navigate accurately was to follow the nearby
train tracks until they guided me home.
I was walking on the tracks over a bridge when
I slipped and fell. I managed to grab ahold of
the side of the tracks and prevented myself from
falling any further. Too battered and weak to
pull myself back up onto the road bed, I hung
there all night.
When the dawn began to break, I was able to
look down beneath my dangling boots and see
that the ground was only four inches below my
feet! It made me so mad, I hung there for the
rest of the day, just out of spite.
Big-time!
Without a doubt.