By Jeff Kontz, sports editor

Stuck. Three feet deep in sand. Midnight. Somewhere around Cheney Lake. No supplies except two lighters, a box of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls, one stocking hat, one sweatshirt and one heavy jacket.

Of course I left the house in shorts. I had a thick hoodie on but only a cutoff shirt underneath. My roommate, Jake Theis, was a little better off with sweatpants, but he only had a thin hoodie and regular T-shirt on.

So we scavenged my Chevy Blazer and found the snacks and extra clothes. Jake got the heavy jacket, and I put the sweatshirt over my legs like sweatpants. My legs through the arms with the hood hanging between my legs.

About an hour or two earlier in the night I drove my car right into the sand about 20 yards from the edge of Cheney Lake. We had been driving around the country bored on a Friday night, taking random turns and listening to my Breaking Benjamin CD. It sounded a lot better than sitting at home playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, which I’d already done for half of the day.

So there we were, minding our own business and driving down some dirt road by Cheney Lake, when it abruptly became a dead end. I saw an opening through the trees and could tell the lake was about 30 yards from the turnaround point. It was hard to tell where the road was, and there were tire marks going close to the water’s edge. I started to make a wide turn to get back onto the road, but I never had the chance. No more than 10 feet off the solid dirt road, I was stuck. My back tires were dug deep into the sand, and there was no getting out.

After trying for a while to dig ourselves out with our bare hands and some large sticks, we decided it was not going to happen. At this point we had also tried getting ahold of some friends to come help us out, but either they didn’t answer or they said they couldn’t help us. So we started to make ourselves a campsite for the night.

The conditions were good for sleeping outside. It was barely below freezing so it was a little chilly, but it was nice because the cold meant no bugs to bother us. There was very little wind and no precipitation. It was a clear night with a full moon.

We worked up an impressive fire with the help from our two lighters and my notebook full of paper (half of the pages had notes for my class – hopefully I won’t need those). But we finally had it going and were able to feel our hands and feet again.

After feasting on some Swiss Rolls and laughing about the whole situation, we quieted down. We cleared out our areas on opposite sides of the fire and tried to get some sleep. I was still filled with adrenaline and couldn’t get comfortable, so I just lay by the fire and played brick breaker on my phone. Jake didn’t have much problem and slept for about an hour.

Finally at about 6 a.m. the sky started to lighten. The fire was dying so we went off to get more wood. I walked to the end of the point that we were stuck on and looked out across the still water. About 20 yards from me, a beaver jumped in the water and started swimming across the mouth of the bay. The water rippled in his wake as he slowly made his way.

If we hadn’t been stuck, it would’ve been really enjoyable.

Instead, we continued to feed the fire and wait for my brother to get off work and come to our rescue. He didn’t receive my text message until he was already at work and said he would try to hurry and get off so he could come help us out. It was very fitting that he wasn’t able to get off work until three hours later.

So we waited and finally at 11 a.m. he arrived. After he had a good laugh at our expense and checked out the campsite, he hooked up a chain from his Tahoe to my Blazer and pulled us out with ease.

Dirty, tired, hungry and slightly dehydrated we started for home.

Our boring Friday night turned into a memorable survival experience at Cheney Lake.