Every day I walk the dog by a certain house in my neighborhood, and I can’t help but laugh. Leaning against the house are the remnants of a large trampoline.

One night, many moons ago, my friends and I decided to take that trampoline. I don’t know why, but for some reason when we get together and celebrate, ridiculous ideas seem to take hold and become priorities.

This particular night, we were celebrating a friend’s bachelorette party. After the normal bachelorette games of pin the manhood on the man (a spin off of pin the tail on the donkey) and truth or dare, somehow one of the dares became “Go take a trampoline.” Thinking back, I’m pretty certain this scheme was rigged by my roommate at the time, who was convinced we would use the trampoline every day for the rest of our lives.

The house was decorated with black and pink streamers, so we each put one around our forehead, and suddenly we were transformed into ninjas.

We proceeded to change into all black outfits, and even went so far as to take individual “trading card” photos. We must have thought we were going to be famous some day.

But it wasn’t enough just to dress like ninjas. We still had to fulfill our ninja task.

So six of us snuck out into the night to liberate a trampoline.

We ran down the road stealthily, ducking behind every bush or tree we could find anytime a car drove by. Sure, a bunch of giggling 20-something women running down the street is perfectly normal and I’m certain no one saw us hiding. Yeah, right.

When we reached our destination, we had a secret ninja plan. We would all get under the trampoline, then, on my count, we would lift it above our heads, and all move in sync, carrying the trampoline home.

We assembled under the mat, laughing and shushing each other so loudly that I’m certain the whole neighborhood heard us. I counted. One. Two. Three. Lift!

All we heard was CRASH. The metallic legs were no longer attached to the trampoline. While we were holding up the mat, the legs clanked to the ground.

We panicked and ran — as though our lives depended on it.

As far as we know, the cops weren’t called, and no one knows — until today — who attempted this silly deed. We have not tried to be ninjas ever again. We are not stealthy, we are not quick, we are certainly not silent and we don’t want to go to jail.

Gal on the Go appears every other week, alternating with Jennifer Huffman’s Surrendering to Motherhood. Contact Michelle at mchoat@napanews.com.