This is your last and best chance

Drumheller Fountain is a lot like a large pyrotechnics display: pretty from a distance, but not something you would want to throw yourself in the midst of. From Red Square, the impressive jets of water leaping skyward with Rainier in the background make for a publicity-brochure-worthy photograph. Up close, however, one cannot help notice the greenish cast to the murky water, cannot miss the hazy outlines of derelict shopping carts sitting like wrecked battle ships on the bottom, cannot disregard the occasional goldfish flitting by. Frequent and extended water shutdowns and general neglect over the past few years have turned Drumheller's once-proud visage into little more than a glorified duck pond, and allowed the stagnant water to congeal to the consistency of turkey gravy. Clearly, the ducks own the fountain, and we, their tenants, would be foolhardy at best to trespass on their property. The diseases one could contract by dipping so much as a toe into the water number in the low hundreds, and it isn't hard to imagine higher life forms lurking in wait for anyone reckless enough to swim a lap.

At least, that is how things looked prior to Monday.

This year, I had gotten used to the idea of a bone-dry fountain surrounded by chain-link fence, so when I walked past on Monday, I stopped. I did a double take. The fountain was back on. The water now runs clean and pure, devoid for the time-being of duck excrement, leaves and man-made debris. I sat for a while on the immaculate lip over the water, reveling in the cool spray across my face, and a revelation suddenly sparked in front of my eyes like a flashbulb: This is the cleanest I will ever see Drumheller. In my three years at the

University, it has not once even approached its current level of sanitation, and things will only go downhill from here. As I write this, campus ducks are circulating memos concerning the fountain's pristine state, and in short order they will no doubt trash it as thoroughly as a death-metal band in its room at the Hilton. I realized that if I was to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime situation, I had to act, and act swiftly.

I began to envision various scenarios ending with me neck-deep in Drumheller, my favorite being a sprint from Red Square with a group of friends during a break between classes. As it turns out, I was not alone. Yesterday evening, I got a call from my friend Kelly inviting me to join her and some friends for a quick splash in the fountain. "Dude! You totally stole my idea!" I shouted at her.

"I doubt it, since we went last night," she laughed. Apparently, there were several people already swimming when she showed up with her crew the night before, despite it being past midnight. "Let me grab my trunks," I told her.

We arrived a little past 1 in the morning, shivering and looking up at the night sky. Wet streaks on the concrete marked the spot where more bedtime-conscious bathers had climbed out of the fountain, and we found the ladder nearby. One of our five-person fountain posse opted to swim nude, but the rest of us came prepared with bathing suits under our clothing

I won't lie. The water is cold. However, our exhilaration provided all the heat we needed as we dunked, splashed and paddled slow circles around the circumference. Four more thrill-seekers joined us after a bit (it was dark, but I don't think they had a stitch of swimwear among them), and after we toweled off we met another group while walking to the car. Forget the bar scene; Drumheller is the place to be in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. If you find yourself in the neighborhood, I highly recommend it.

The UW Police Department frowns on this activity. Proceed at your own risk.