One summer I was asked by some high school friends if I wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. My friend’s older brother was taking his van, and I was invited. We stopped in Las Vegas on the journey. We were told to be back at the van by a certain time. If we got separated, just meet at the van.
As an adventure, I managed to get separated. As I got to the edge of the parking lot, a drunk man was standing on the side of a building with a gun.
My brother had just came home from the Marines a couple weeks earlier. He always wanted to tell me about his training.
One thing in particular was that if someone is shooting at you, run away in a zigzag pattern. So I ran like he had told me. The man with the gun started shooting until he had emptied his gun. I heard the bullets whiz by me when I ran. I had won many first-place ribbons in the 200-meter track meets.
I never imagined I would ever have been running for my life. My friends had heard the shots and came running.