Past Entry: July 99 2002-06-10

July 4th 1999- Klamath Falls OR

We've officially dubbed this our "Night in the Shit".

We call it "In the Shit" because a night or two previous, we watched "Full Metal Jacket".

I think it was everyone's intention to under the influence of SOMETHING that evening. I think it was divided pretty evenly between the beer drinker, the pot smokers, and those who had both. Yours truly being one of the beer drinkers.

We started the evening around 4pm, playing a game of Kings and getting nicely drunk.

Then, while Steve and RJ, the vegetarians of our group, made Top Ramen, the rest of us continued to drink and play Bloody Roar.

When Matt Ledbetter showed up, the evening finally went into full swing.

We sent Sean Kelly, Jason, and Jeremy out for fireworks and told them to meet us at the top of Mt Stougal.

We took the beer with us.

Now, try to imagine an off-road excursion with a 4-door sedan and a minivan...

The minivan got dirty. The sedan seemed to have lost its transmission at some point.

This was the moment that "Charlies came pouring out of the trees."

1st casualty: The sedan. It was a stick shift, so it not only lost its ability to go into gear, but it also lost its ability to turn on. That means we had to push it over hills to get it back to the highway.

2nd casualty: While pushing the car so that it achieves enough momentum to coast, my blood sugar dive-bombed, and I collapsed in the middle of the rocky dirt road. Immediately everyone goes into a panic, which sets off in me an anxiety attack. While most showed concern or worry, RJ goes into mother mode, and in the process of keeping the others from crowding around me manages to crowd the shit out of me. She tried to give me juice, but spilled nearly all of it over my chest. She fed me a bean salad, but it tasted more like a shit salad. Generally, she caused more harm than help. I give it to her that she tried, though.

3rd casualty: While taking a piss in the woods, Sarah slipped and fell down the mountain, banging her head on a rock. She joined me in the injured van, which also doubled as the pot smoking van.

At this point, I took advantage of my incapacitation to make quite a few smart-ass comments. Because, hey, who can get mad at an invalid? Apparently, RJ could, who felt I somehow owed her a debt of gratitude for staining my shirt and feeding me spoonfuls of shit. I stopped counting (at 15) how many times she told me to shut up.

4th casualty: the golf bag in the back of the van. No one knows when or how it happened, but the damn thing got ruined. There's 400 bucks down the drain.

I feel like a goddamn vet.