There are various ways to have an escapade. The origin of the word has roots in various languages, but the meaning of them all is "to escape."
Can it have other meanings?
"Escapade" can also signify the kicking of a horse, when it kicks out both its hind legs simultaneously, sometimes in play, but most of the time as an act of aggressiveness.
What kind of escapades can humans have?
Since the word is some kind of escape, there are a number of escapades we can have. Note that an escapade is not to be confused with a peccadillo, which has quite different connotations but is regularly used to describe the escapade.
Got up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head and went off to school ...or did you?
Maybe you went to school, but you and your friends slowly melted away from the assembly of good boys and girls milling in front of the school, and you went to the mall instead, riding escalators, visiting various shops and gorging yourselves in the food court.
Just when you are about to go to the multiplex cinema to watch the latest flick, that dreaded mall cop comes up and ask you the question: "What are you kids doing here? You should be in school!"
And just like that, after some back and forth on the walkie-talkies, there appears a real-life police officer, and your gig is up. The school is called and a truancy officer comes and picks you up. That pretty much ends that escapade, except for the consequences you are facing at school and at home. Those words from the principal still ring in your ears: "This will become part of your permanent record."
But now, you are grown up, and you have realized that your permanent record of having skipped school, or as it was referred to, truancy, did not keep you from getting into the state university because you have that unique talent of being able to throw a football with deadly accuracy, so you are the star quarterback with a full scholarship.
Oh, beloved spring break, just moments away from those lazy days of summer. But it's still cold in Minnesota, so why not plan an escapade with your seven best friends and pile into that minivan your parents so generously lent you to go to Des Moines, but 24 hours later finds you cavorting on the sandy beaches of the Gulf of Mexico with your fake I.D., drinking Long Island ice teas and sucking up mass quantities of beer, where you run into the bikinied love of your life, with whom you dance to your favorite music all night long, all the while hoping that you will eventually meet back up with your seven fellow escape artists for the ride home, where your understanding and tolerant parents won't even mention anything about the 4000 extra miles on the odometer you accumulated during your escapade.