It was an overcast dreary sort of day. A day where all you really wanted to do is stay in bed. But you have things to do and places to be. You are going camping. So you go about getting ready for your trip. Bags are packed and your truck is loaded. Your trusty camper is hitched to the back. You get in and say your traditional silent prayer for an uneventful and safe trip. As you finish you hope God forgives you for all the stupid stuff you are about to do.
That was the start of Spring Fling 2008. It turned out to be more of a Spring Sog instead. Thursday Morning was overcast but warm. Dad followed me in his Jeep. I was driving "Jake" my 1999 Ford F150. When we arrived at the Clayton Wal-Mart Dad asked me to tap my brakes. Turns out I had no brake lights. Oh Joy. Jobu was back.
Jobu is the little Voodoo god from the Major League movies. Perdo Cerrano says at one point "F*&K YOU JOBU! I DO IT MYSELF" well...when ever something bad happens like Rain, Catastrophic Vehicle Failure, Angry Game Wardens or Loud Propane Explosions we blame Jobu. We actually say "F*&K YOU JOBU!" and shake our fists at the sky. In the past Jobu has tried to kill me on several occasions. But that is another story.
We arrive on our mountain side hide-a-way. Greg arrived at about the same time we did. I get the camper set up and drag out the coolers. Kevin arrives followed by Jerry. I believe Teddy was already up there. Or maybe he never left from the last trip. I never know about Teddy. He seems to pop out of nowhere sometimes.
Jerry, Kevin, and I all make our contributions to the bar and then I reveal my secret weapon in the war against sobriety. PBR's...cheap and tasty. Good stuff, or so I thought. I'm a little angry at my truck and the beer is cold so I knock back 8 or so.
The bad thing about being 38 is I still think I'm 18. The part of me that is "Bob" still thinks he can do anything and not suffer the consequences. But here of late the body that houses the "Inner Bob" seems to be at odds with the other.
Back to the story...I'm 8 beers into a case of PBR's. And then someone hands me a Jagerbomb. I drink it. Then a rum and coke pops out of nowhere, then a Jack and Coke, Vodka and Sprite, and then it all repeats. And then somewhere deep inside my Cerebral DJ spins up "Gone" by Montgomery Gentry. Bad news...When i start too hear that song in my head it usually mans I'm drunk beyond repair.
Kevin and I decide we need to go survey the rest of the campgrounds so we hop in my truck. Jake fires right up and we back out and put it in drive. All of the sudden there is a gradual brightening of the surrounding air and Poof! there is Teddy at the window. I think I heard that strange sound you hear on Star Trek whenever they use their transporters. He asks "Where you guys going?" we reply "Crapper". He asked "Are you OK to drive?" We slurred out "Yesh..I'm hardley drunked" He replied "Weeelll OK." and then he vanished again.
I drove to the main road and realized that I am indeed impaired and needed to return to camp. So we did. Thank heavens. We got out, locked the truck and gave our keys to my Father. And we decided that since we did something rational we needed another drink. That is about when we discovered that Jerry had disappeared.
He had decided to take a nap under the bar. At some point I though it might be nice to sit down. Next thing I know I wake up and I feel really bad. It's almost dark. I stagger to the nearest tree and promptly get rid of any remaining booze in my stomach. Then I stagger by Greg at his cooking station. He offered me a pork chop. It smelled delightful and from what I heard they tasted even better than they smelled. Greg is one hell of a cook. I politely declined and continued on my way to the camper. Where I slept like the dead.
Friday looked pretty much like Thursday. I drank a beer. And maybe one Rum and Coke. I think we played Horseshoes. Kevin was not feeling well. Jerry and I both felt green around the gills still. More people showed up and Friday turned into Saturday.
Saturday morning...lots of clouds. With breakfast in our bellies we greeted the rain as the fishermen headed out for an assault on the local trout population. Jerry, Kevin, and I head out to Wal-Mart to pick up some dinner. It starts pouring on the way down the mountain. We do our shopping and return to camp. It rained off and on all day. Jobu turned a great day into a soggy mess. Dinner was prepared and we stared drinking a bit. Kevin still felt like hell and the spirit of drunkenness had evidently left me Thursday. Try as I might i just couldn't drink to excess. Which is probably a good thing.
We sat around the campfire enjoying our drinks, smoking cigars while listening to Ron White and Larry The Cable Guy. All in all...Saturday turned out pretty good.
Sunday we packed up. And Jobu attacked my truck again. My four wheel drive would not engage. So with all the rain, I got my truck stuck. Dad pulled it out with his jeep. I said a few choice words to Jobu and headed home. Vowing not to get that plastered on a Thursday again.
But I forgot all about that when our Fall trip rolled around.
No comments:
Post a Comment