What we learn about thinking from teenage misadventure
The Eros by Philip Mayer (https://www.flickr.com/photos/44435674@N00/)

What we learn about thinking from teenage misadventure

Misadventure. Death by misadventure. It’s unnatural, it’s not an accident, and the deceased was involved in a deliberate activity that displayed a voluntary ignorance of the risks involved. He or she died because of choosing to do something without considering the risks.

That’s what it may have said on my death certificate—cause of death: misadventure. It may not have taken the coroner too long to record that verdict. It’s a verdict recorded following an illicit drug overdose, for example, or it may be the verdict recorded for a Darwin Award recipient. Unfortunately, I may have been considered a nominee for the latter.

Around my mid-teens I shifted from what was perhaps the ‘pre-thinking’ stage of my life to a time when embracing thoughts and ideas was predominant. Literally stumbling about in the dark with no defined thinking process was placed on the shelf labelled Childhood Behaviour. I remember the shift well. I remember the events and influential behaviour of those around me that prompted the decisive and considered need to start thinking critically and logically, a need to see things others either couldn’t see or wouldn’t disclose, and a need to view everything realistically with a long-term vision.

I had many brushes with death during this time, some accidental, others not.

Drowning (I am still not a great swimmer); motorcycle accidents (a week in hospital); an early encounter with somebody later convicted of the sexual-motivated manslaughter of a teenage boy (conviction overturned).

I must clarify the latter, since fortunately there was no harm done—it was a common and comical encounter with an infamous local man who enjoyed approaching young boys to comment on or squeeze their biceps. Knowing what happened later, however, critical thought dictates that comedy had potential to turn to tragedy.

Each of these definitive moments created the person I am today. I think; I consider; I play devil’s advocate. I am not happy with seeing only the superficial and the obvious; I am not happy until I have seen what is out there in the dark, hidden from view, things nobody can see, things nobody considers.

One defining moment that may have led to a rather ugly death by misadventure—or major bodily damage, at best—involved being inside a disused, vacant and derelict Edwardian cinema. The Eros. It had previously been an X-rated ‘adult cinema’, a euphemism for a place people would gather to watch pornography before the internet revolution. But then, in the ‘80s, The Eros was empty, dark, damp and destined for either demolition or conversion to gentrified apartments.

The Eros was later demolished, although it may have had one final grim tale to tell before its destruction, had I have decided to release my grip.

It was the early-to-mid ‘80s. I was a teenage punk. Fashion, bands, concerts, music. I immersed myself in it all, the constituent nascent parts forming the sum of who I am today. It was a Saturday afternoon, I recall, and there were rumours, rumblings about what we may nowadays call a ‘pop-up’ music festival in the former Eros cinema. It was essentially an unplanned, unscheduled, and perhaps illegal concert by several burgeoning punk bands from the local scene. We made our way excitedly up the hill to The Eros, a place we laughingly referred to as the place where ‘men sit watching movies with newspapers over their laps’.

When we arrived, we were met by several disappointed band members bands who stated it was cancelled because there was no electricity inside. Damn it. Somebody had gone off to find a generator, but the door was open (forced open, I recall). There were a handful of us, it was dark inside, one of us had a torch (for some reason!), so why don’t we go inside to try and find a way to switch on the electricity.

In we went. Up the stairs. UP THE STAIRS!

Why didn’t I think? In my ‘pre-thinking’ stage I simply didn’t think that going upstairs in an Edwardian cinema meant only one thing. We were heading up to the Dress Circle or Balcony, yet without Critical Thinking I mistakenly assumed we were heading up to the ground floor.

It was pitch-black, and the single torch used by somebody in the distance did not help me as I felt my way between the empty seats, inclined downwards towards the stage, where I was headed. Ah! I felt it: the barrier, the barrier between the audience and the orchestra, just in front of the stage. So I thought. It couldn’t be too far down into the orchestra pit from the audience, could it? I may as well climb over and jump down. And so I did.  Almost.

I climbed over the barrier and dropped, expecting to reach the ground below. However, I found myself dangling, gripping the top of the barrier, feet unable to reach the floor. Dangling in a manner akin to a silent movie star comedically hanging from a hotel window.

What now? Do I just let go and drop the few feet—it can’t be too far, surely? Or do I climb back over? The latter may be difficult in my bondage-trousers, chains and studs; being fashionable was such a chore.

There I dangled for a few minutes, deciding what to do. Drop, or try to climb back? Tick-tock, tick-tock. Then suddenly! Thought! This is not a good situation! It’s time to think! Learn to think! Why am I here? Why did I not think?

“Help! Help! Guys, please come and help me!”

The others eventually found my hands still gripping the top of the barrier, and two or three people pulled me up and over the barrier. Safety. Who has the touch? What is over there?

It was a shock to see.

We were, of course, on the balcony and I had been dangling about 15m (50ft) above the stalls or ground floor of the cinema. Ordinarily a drop of this magnitude may have resulted in shock, unconsciousness and a few broken bones, especially if landing awkwardly on the cinema seats below. However, there were no seats.

In place of the expected seats below was the detritus of a derelict cinema about to be demolished: piles of rubble, rocks, metal and wood, many projecting poles and planks. A fall of 15m onto this would have been very nasty, possibly fatal.

Had I have survived the fall, what then? Had I have been killed in the fall or rendered unconscious, what then?

Chances are, the people I was with would never have known I’d fallen and left the building assuming I had already left and/or gone home (friendship was quite transient then). How long may I have lain there, dead, alive or dying? In the days before cell phones, how would anybody have called the emergency services if I had have been found? It’s mind-boggling.

The lesson I learnt: think, think, think. This recollection can tell us all a story about life, how we behave and act, how we must be critical thinkers always, why we must never be part of the crowd. View what’s hidden in the dark without seeing it. See what others don’t, and never, ever simply follow others blindly into the dark.

It is a lesson that has served me well through the intervening years. And yet, I could have just been another statistic, another fool choosing to do something without considering the risks, another death by misadventure.

Peter Mulville has over 23-years’ professsional experience focusing on organisational challenges, such as business processes and improvements, facilitation and enablement, service management orientation, and strategy. Experienced in leadership, coaching, mediation, team-velocity and the concept of People-First, Peter is critical thinking, complex problem solving and uses Emotional intelligence and body language to nurture a culture of trust, respect, communication and cohesion. Peter is also a Project Manager and well-versed and experienced in governance, risk, and compliance, IT information security and SQL business intelligence.

Keywords: #MatsudaMulville #MatsudaMulvilleThinking #ComplexProblemSolving #CriticalThinking #EmotionalIntelligence #JudgementandDecisionMaking #FourthIndustrialRevolution

Carrie G.

Provider Network Data | Data Reporting | Excel | Epic | Provider Insurance Enrollment | Credentialing

6y
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Jaime Cohen

Communication Coach & Advisor • Speaker 💪• LinkedIn Learning Author • Making You a Powerhouse Communicator with #TheRightWords

6y

What an exciting life you have lived, Peter! Enjoyed reading this.

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Helen Mallett

Your skin at 50 is a dividend. Invest early!

6y

Wonderful telling techniques!👏👏👏👍 Love the clarifications in brackets, too. Nice subject most of us, gen. Z, can relate to. Very fresh. Great pleasure reading.😁

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Soma Ghosh

Award winning Career Coach🏆 of The Career Happiness Mentor, host of The Career Happiness podcast🎙️& CSW68 UN Delegate

6y

Interesting article. I think my teenage years were for me the most confusing and was so happy when they were over!! Thanks for sharing.

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