This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2014, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Skyline High School student body vice president Paul "Señor" Thomas contacted me last week with the news that my alma mater would consider it a signal honor to possibly kill me.

Such an offer from Skyline might have made sense 43 years ago when they almost didn't let me graduate, but today I was just some simple-minded old guy trying to make his way in the world.

Last week I accepted the Ice Bucket Challenge, but with certain provisions. First was that I would only get dumped on by someone I trusted. Next, well, that was pretty much it.

The short list — which was open for public voting — included LDS general authorities, KUTV-Channel 2 News anchor Shauna Lake, fellow gunner Sonny Dyle, the head football coaches for Brigham Young University and the University of Utah, and the student body presidency of Skyline High School.

The LDS Church won in a walk. Nearly half of all voters chose any general authority at random to be my assailant. Shauna came in second, and Skyline was dead last.

As expected, my church failed to respond. Preparing the world for the Second Coming is a full-time job. Apostles can't be expected to drop that in order to dump ice water on fools. That part comes when I'm in hell.

That moved Shauna into the top spot. Skyline came in last. It was Paul who came up with the compromise. If Shauna was available, would I be willing to get soaked with ice water at Skyline's homecoming game?

If I was going to risk a heart attack with gallons of ice water in front of a crowd, what difference did it matter who watched? Dead is dead. So I called Shauna and invited her to homecoming.

Shauna agreed, but just as a friend. My wife, the real love of my life, was my actual date. She wasn't going to miss me making a public spectacle of myself. And someone would need to claim my body.

We showed up Friday evening while Skyline was busy massacring Murray High School. I connected with Shauna and Paul. We waited under the lights for halftime.

I had a series of flashbacks, quantum jumps between then and now. The football field was smaller than I remembered, but the bleachers under which my friends and I sometimes hid during class were still there.

So was the little booth where Coach Schmidt caught us smoking and threatened to kick our butts. My favorite illegal parking place now had a "Faculty Only" sign on it.

Oh, and there was the very curb where I hit my head when Bammer and I were cornered by some West High fans and I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

Then it was halftime. After the dancers, the cheerleaders and the homecoming royalty, it was my turn to amuse the mob.

Shauna and Paul were joined by the rest of the Skyline student body presidency, Katie Garff and Hillary Weixler, all of them lugging buckets of ice water. With all the aplomb of a badly intoxicated firing squad, they counted and dumped.

The first shock of ice-cold water down my back was a lot like being hit with a Taser. Then it was like being punched in the solar plexus as all the air went out of me. And finally, it was like waking up in a snow bank.

When I could see again, I thanked my hosts and sloshed over to the locker room. My wife said it went better than she expected. I thought it was almost exactly like the high school I remembered.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.