In the scout troop I grew up in, at the Bicentennial Jamboree (local event I guess, it was here in Memphis but seemed that thousands of troops were there) in 1976 (Yes folks, there was scouts back then too!) some of the scouts decided to 'get' one loudmouth little guy in our troop. (I wasn't involved in the planning. I found out about it midway through) - They waited until he entered a porta-potty and then tied it closed with binders twine so he couldn't get out. Then they waited (he didn't know he was locked in) until he tried to get out. Then they rocked it a bit and then left. I heard them laughing about it as they came back into camp. They were discussing how they'd let him stew in there until dinner was over, then they'd come tip it over.
I trucked around until I found one with binders twine tied around it (There were hundreds out there) and got out my trusty scout knife and spoiled their fun.
I pulled one once that could have ended up hurting my older brother pretty bad. We went camping and My bro Joe (JASM at the time) suggested we take a trail he'd seen that led around the park. It had been raining and the area was muddy. We grabbed our ponchos and headed out. Came to a great big hill. The trail went straight up it at about a 45deg angle. The mud was slippery and nobody wanted to climb up it but me.
Joe gave me the 100' rope and sent me up the steep hill. Slow going, when I got to the top I was mud head to toe. The guys in the troop laughed at me. Called me 'mudpuppy'. There was a big tree at the top of the hill and I secured the rope around it. A couple more guys came up. After about half the troop was up the hill, my bro said he was coming up. I untied the rope and several of us just stood on the trailing end until he was almost all the way up. Then we stepped off and he went sliding down and landed at the bottom in the gathering 'stream' there. Got mad and came charging back up the hill to get me, (no rope) lost his footing, fell on his face and slid down again. He looked just like me ande I laughed. Called him mudpuppy.
He gave me one of those I-know-where-you-live-slime looks, and I straightened up and told him to throw the rope up. We'd be good and tie it well this time. He just turned the rest of the troop around and they headed back. I had to finish the trail with the half of the troop that was with me, dreading every step of the way the mountain of dishes I'd be given to clean.
I was well known in our troop for my backfiring tricks and pranks and the dishes I always had to clean. Read my story about the 'fish heads' on the forums on our troop website.
I agree that hazing and pranks are not only against BSA policy but can be downright dangerous not only for those victims, but for the perpetrators. Dishpan hands are a definite hazard.
