Spoiler: Remember the story about fording the river and climbing the glacier?
The third night, we slept around this tiny little lake on top of the mountain. It was cold enough to act as refrigeration, so we made instant cheesecake in a bowl and floated it in the lake until it was done. The next day we started down the mountain, and I learned that while I have no problem climbing
The fifth day was our last on the mountain and the older guys were starting to show their age so we reorganized our hiking order a little. The older kids were given a radio and sent on ahead, the adults brought up the back. Since the older kids couldn't be trusted to stay to my pace and the adults were way slower than me, they gave me my own radio and let me hike in the middle by myself (note that this is
So about 8 miles from the end of the trail, the route cuts down into a little valley and follows a creek. The valley is filled with tall grasses and wildflowers. It's absolutely beautiful, and of course swarming with mosquitoes. And my radio goes off, "*crackle crackle crackle* trail. *crackle crackle crackle* water." So I transfer my ski poles to only one hand and unhook my radio, "Say Again?" I figure the older guys are stopping for a water break and calling to say they'll wait on the trail.
"*crackle crackle crackle* water *crackle crackle* bridge!" The grass is taller than me now, and thick right up to the edge of the trail. "Guys I can't hear you. What about the bridge?" Now I'm worried that there's another bridge out and I'm gonna have to ford another river.
The radio is silent for a few moments. "Guys? Guys?" I come around a corner, and just have time to register that the trail is now made of wood before WHOOSH! my foot slips out from under me and I hit the deck. 80 lbs of gear and 200 lbs of kid hit hard on the wood and it knocks the air right out of my lungs. My radio goes flying, the ski poles are swinging around and all the heavy and hard stuff in my pack drives hard into my lower back.
I'm gasping and wheezing and trying not to cry while I flail around like an upside down turtle, and my radio crackles from right next to my head, "Watch out on the trail! There's water flowing OVER the bridge, and it's very slippery!"
So I roll over to discover that yes, there is about 2 inches of water on the bridge. And it's quite cold. And about three inches from my face is a chunk of quartz crystal about the size of my fist. Now the Scouts have a pretty strict "take nothing but pictures; leave nothing but footprints" policy, but I figured the mountain owed me something for the attempt on my life. So I grabbed the rock and stuck it in my pack, and it's sitting on the bookshelf next to my bed right now!
up
a rock face, going down
totally freaks me out. Still, I made it without having to be lowered like the dog. That afternoon we were hiking down through an old-growth forest, and it rained so hard that my 'waterproof' rain gear bled its green dye into every unbagged article in my backpack.The fifth day was our last on the mountain and the older guys were starting to show their age so we reorganized our hiking order a little. The older kids were given a radio and sent on ahead, the adults brought up the back. Since the older kids couldn't be trusted to stay to my pace and the adults were way slower than me, they gave me my own radio and let me hike in the middle by myself (note that this is
fantastically
against the rules). Over the course of the day, we get spread out over maybe 5 miles, but we were keeping in touch via radio. We were stretching the effective range due to terrain, but never out of contact for very long.So about 8 miles from the end of the trail, the route cuts down into a little valley and follows a creek. The valley is filled with tall grasses and wildflowers. It's absolutely beautiful, and of course swarming with mosquitoes. And my radio goes off, "*crackle crackle crackle* trail. *crackle crackle crackle* water." So I transfer my ski poles to only one hand and unhook my radio, "Say Again?" I figure the older guys are stopping for a water break and calling to say they'll wait on the trail.
"*crackle crackle crackle* water *crackle crackle* bridge!" The grass is taller than me now, and thick right up to the edge of the trail. "Guys I can't hear you. What about the bridge?" Now I'm worried that there's another bridge out and I'm gonna have to ford another river.
The radio is silent for a few moments. "Guys? Guys?" I come around a corner, and just have time to register that the trail is now made of wood before WHOOSH! my foot slips out from under me and I hit the deck. 80 lbs of gear and 200 lbs of kid hit hard on the wood and it knocks the air right out of my lungs. My radio goes flying, the ski poles are swinging around and all the heavy and hard stuff in my pack drives hard into my lower back.
I'm gasping and wheezing and trying not to cry while I flail around like an upside down turtle, and my radio crackles from right next to my head, "Watch out on the trail! There's water flowing OVER the bridge, and it's very slippery!"
So I roll over to discover that yes, there is about 2 inches of water on the bridge. And it's quite cold. And about three inches from my face is a chunk of quartz crystal about the size of my fist. Now the Scouts have a pretty strict "take nothing but pictures; leave nothing but footprints" policy, but I figured the mountain owed me something for the attempt on my life. So I grabbed the rock and stuck it in my pack, and it's sitting on the bookshelf next to my bed right now!
Spoiler: So when I was a sophomore in high school
I was in a senior level math class. And because the universe shares my sense of humor, there was also a freshman in this class named Emily who was ethnically Chinese and
And Emily, without missing a beat, looks right at me and says "Lacism."
For the next three years, every time I saw Emily I greeted her with "You OK? You're looking kinda yellow."
Eight years later, I went back to my highschool to watch a school play that one of my boys was in. Emily was there to watch her little sister in the same show. We saw each other in the audience and talked before the curtain. "Emily! It's been forever!" I said, "How are you?"
She grabbed me by the chin. "My God!" she said. "We've got to get you to a hospital! Your skin is so pale, and your eyes are so big!"
insanely
good at math. She might have had a crush on me, but teenaged sthar was far to oblivious to notice something like that. So one day, I'm sitting on my desk with my back to the door, talking to Emily. And this senior who was also named Steve walks in. Even in the class of super-math nerds, this guy was exceptional for his lack of social awareness. And he interrupts us and says, "Emily! Are you OK? You don't look normal!" And of course, since I'm the devil, my eyes pop super wide and I get all excited. She says "I'm fine" in a very flat tone. But he keeps going, "Are you sure you feel alright? Your skin is kinda yellow." And I'm sitting there, biting down laughter and hiding the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever had. But when he says, completely earnestly, "I think there might be something wrong with your eyes" I just busted out laughing. I almost fell of my desk, and the other Steve is looking at me like I'm a moron. The teacher yells across the room, "What the hell is so funny?"And Emily, without missing a beat, looks right at me and says "Lacism."
For the next three years, every time I saw Emily I greeted her with "You OK? You're looking kinda yellow."
Eight years later, I went back to my highschool to watch a school play that one of my boys was in. Emily was there to watch her little sister in the same show. We saw each other in the audience and talked before the curtain. "Emily! It's been forever!" I said, "How are you?"
She grabbed me by the chin. "My God!" she said. "We've got to get you to a hospital! Your skin is so pale, and your eyes are so big!"
Spoiler: When I was 19 or 20
I went to a New Years Eve party with some of my friends from highschool. They had all moved away for college, and I was struggling to pay for my school while working full-time and spending as many hours as possible combining my meds with intoxicants. But one of the girls got homesick and moved back, and everyone I hadn't seen in two years got an invite to her shitty studio apartment for New Years.
About 20 people showed up, and I severed a bunch of social ties by bringing a traveller of Jim Beam for myself, popping off the plastic pourer with my pocketknife, and chugging the whole thing in about an hour (a traveller, if you didn't know, is a fifth in a compact plastic bottle. You know, in case you fall down.) I got sloppy fast, which resulted in me making a pass at my best friend's girlfriend
A little later, we went to a park to watch the fireworks. My buddy Matt, who we'd all thought was dead until that night, had discovered that we'd had a fight club in highschool (because of course we did) but nobody had ever invited him. He walked up to me in the middle of the park and said, "I want you to hit me as hard as you can."
So I did.
I sucker punched him and put him on his ass. And then I wandered away and blacked out.
I don't remember it, but apparently he came back for seconds later and we knocked each other around a bit. I'm told I impressed everyone by kicking Matt in the head just before they pulled us apart.
At the end of the night, everyone with a brain had a DD to take them home. I didn't, so I called my Dad. While Matt and I were waiting for our rides in the apartment, I sat up and said "Ow! Why do I hurt everywhere?" The girl who lived there explained patiently, "You and Matt were fighting." I was puzzled, "Why?"
"I have no idea," she said.
"Oh. Did I win?"
Right about then Matt groaned, rolled over, and said "Why am I bleeding?" and she said "Yeah, I think you won."
Incidentally my Dad brought Jingle, who was 13 or 14, with him to pick my drunk ass up at 4 in the morning. He still gives me shit for the things I don't remember saying that night.
About 20 people showed up, and I severed a bunch of social ties by bringing a traveller of Jim Beam for myself, popping off the plastic pourer with my pocketknife, and chugging the whole thing in about an hour (a traveller, if you didn't know, is a fifth in a compact plastic bottle. You know, in case you fall down.) I got sloppy fast, which resulted in me making a pass at my best friend's girlfriend
in front of him
and telling a bunch of horrifying stories about my other friends who happened to be drug dealers.A little later, we went to a park to watch the fireworks. My buddy Matt, who we'd all thought was dead until that night, had discovered that we'd had a fight club in highschool (because of course we did) but nobody had ever invited him. He walked up to me in the middle of the park and said, "I want you to hit me as hard as you can."
So I did.
I sucker punched him and put him on his ass. And then I wandered away and blacked out.
I don't remember it, but apparently he came back for seconds later and we knocked each other around a bit. I'm told I impressed everyone by kicking Matt in the head just before they pulled us apart.
At the end of the night, everyone with a brain had a DD to take them home. I didn't, so I called my Dad. While Matt and I were waiting for our rides in the apartment, I sat up and said "Ow! Why do I hurt everywhere?" The girl who lived there explained patiently, "You and Matt were fighting." I was puzzled, "Why?"
"I have no idea," she said.
"Oh. Did I win?"
Right about then Matt groaned, rolled over, and said "Why am I bleeding?" and she said "Yeah, I think you won."
Incidentally my Dad brought Jingle, who was 13 or 14, with him to pick my drunk ass up at 4 in the morning. He still gives me shit for the things I don't remember saying that night.
