Man-Hunt

It was the summer of 2010. My sister and I signed up for a summer exchange program to learn French in Quebec. We were both chosen to spend the summer in Jonquière, Quebec. It was one of the most remote towns in Quebec, and not many residents spoke English. If they did, they would pretend they didn't.

The summer was hot and humid. The evenings barely cooled off but it was enough to not feel like you die unless if you are in a pool.

I remember that after being there for a few weeks, I had already made some new friends from Ontario and two from Calgary. We all decided to play a game called "Man-Hunt," which was based on a television show where a cowboy had to find someone in the wilderness using only instinct and hunting skills.

It was already dark, and the lights at the college—or rather, the Cégep—were on, with mosquitoes swarming around them. It was one of those summer nights when you could see the stars in the sky and smell the scent of honeysuckles, oaks, and nearby pines. Crickets chirped in the freshly cut grass. Despite the lack of sunlight, the air was still warm enough for sundresses, shorts, and tank tops.

"We should play a game," suggested Chelsea as we lounged in the grass, blowing dandelion seeds into the non-existent breeze.

We saw Colin's eyes widen. "We should play Man-Hunt!" he exclaimed.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Have you ever watched the reality TV show?" Cameron asked.

"Yes. Ooh, it's like tag, but we join a team, right?" I asked.

"Exactly!" screamed Chelsea.

"Let's go. Who's it?" asked Heather.

"Nose game!" squealed Emma.

All five of my friends touched their noses quickly, except for me. As expected, my reactions were a little slower back then.

"Okay, we'll go hide, and you find us," said Emma.

I turned toward a tree and started counting down from thirty. This was great. It was dark outside, with no light except for the glow of the old streetlights.

I ran through the grass, and from the corner of my eye I spotted Chelsea hiding behind a bush by herself. Perfect.

I jogged toward her. She noticed me and started to run. She was hard to catch, given that her major the following year was going to be Kinesiology and she was very fit. I gave up and started looking for someone else to chase.

I followed her down a hill, and that's when I spotted the rest of the group facing the opposite direction from where I was coming. I would have to be very quiet and still. I held my breath and took off my shoes so I could move barefoot.

"Do you see her?" asked Emma.

"Shh, she could be coming!" Heather hissed back.

"Or she could be right behind you!" I shouted.

"Ahh!" they screamed into the night air.

I had caught them completely by surprise. I laughed hard. Bam! My hand shot out and tagged about half the group. They then went after the remainder, who had managed to be faster than me and escape.

We chased them into an open field. Great—there were only two of them left, and Emma, Heather, Cameron, and Colin had them cornered. We charged straight at them and managed to round them up.

"Hello?" yelled a voice in the distance.

Oh, shoot. It was one of the monitors.

That's what we called them: monitors. Their job was to supervise us minors and make sure we weren't breaking the rules—staying up late, speaking English when we should have been speaking French, or doing anything unsafe.

"Oh, bonjour," we all responded.

"Vous êtes encore debout tard, vous devriez retourner aux dortoirs," he said, which translates to, "You guys are out late. You should return to your dormitories."

"Oui, bonne nuit!" we said in unison, and then we headed back to the dormitories, giggling.

We were out past 12:00 a.m., which was well beyond our curfew. It doesn't sound like we did much, but it remains one of the most memorable moments of my life.

I don't know whether it was because I got into a little trouble and found it exhilarating, or because we had the energy to stay out late playing Man-Hunt. You had to be there to understand how freeing it felt to be a teenager running barefoot through the grass.

I know it sounds like a simple evening filled with simple fun, but it was wonderful. I felt a rush just from breaking the rules to play tag. No alcohol was involved—we were obviously underage, and we had no interest in getting sent back home.

Like I said, you had to be there...