I just spent 48 flippin’ hours at “THE LODGE”.
Don’t get me wrong. I never complain about being employed and I am always grateful to have a job. But two full on back to back “Clopenings” anywhere is a lot and my little geriatric Peyton Place was chock full o’ drama this weekend. The climax was His Royal Highness the Hot & Cold Running Rebound King pointing out that the local disaster was on a roll. yay…….
But I was supposed to go to the river on Sunday with my friends Drew and Leslie.
I FRICKEN LOVE THE RIVER!!!
Some of my bestest childhood memories are of me and my cousins trying to drown one another while the extended family of my extended family got drunk and tried to set one another on fire. My mother the designing diva spent decades after the divorce telling me what a horrible hillbilly hell it was for her and that she still experienced moments of PTSD from it all. I on the other hand love the river. The awesome way rocks sound underwater, the current pulling at your ankles, the feeling that something might reach out from under a rock and drag you to hell…..Sorry we’ve been watching a lot of bad 80’s horror around here lately.
Plus I’m scared to death of Beavers. Those things have seriously gnarly teeth.
Anyway I have always wanted to go tubing, but I didn’t have a tube and it was too late to get one, what with the clopens and a prediction of 90 plus degrees for the first time in a Northwest summer. So I started petitioning my regulars. They all camp, fish and kill stuff. Somebody’s got to have a tube right? Sigh….It was not as easy as it sounded. But one of my favorites came up with an old raft that was in the back of some camper he bought. It was filthy and questionable.
“It seems to be holding air, but I don’t know….” Okaaay. So I picked it up on the way home. It was deflated.
I reeelly hope Blair did that on purpose.
It was the best I could do so I said my prayers and took it. Another of my regulars (bless) went home and got me some oars.
I bought a youth life jacket from Target (I had a boat so I had to have one) that I could put on but not belt up. I was fifteen minutes late at the meet point and four of Drew’s Female Rockabilly buddies were standing in the heat, arms crossed.
I seriously thought they were going to beat the shit out of me. They were all hip and cool looking in bathing suits and cut offs.
Ok not exactly. I was wearing a huge black t-shirt and shorts, sunglasses that covered half my face and so much sunscreen that I looked like a mime. Whatever. I’m not getting wrinkles for you people.
When we blew up the raft a cloud of bugs appeared. Leslie tried to tell me they were everywhere. Ummm…no. Its the raft. Check out the webs on the bow. Its hot out. How hungry can they be right?
It was a thousand degrees and the river was full of happy drunks. I would estimate that the river was about 70% urine and beer that day. (She points out as if she didn’t contribute)
It was a total blast. My sad ghetto raft began deflating almost instantly. After about a hundred feet I was sitting in a giant rubber taco with a Sandy Sunscreen filling. Top that off with a pile of empty beer cans (did I mention that I was also the garbage scow and keeper of everyones crud?) Two of Drews friends really were bitchy but the other two were awesome and we laughed all day.
My new friend Jesse:
“Hey look over there! That’s how white people drown! Check out the awesome Fratmosphere!”
There were all these beautiful river front properties that seemed to be deserted. I wonder if any of those folks thought about the huge floating parade of drunken white trash that was going to be ruining their view every summer? I mean it had to at least occur, right? It could make for some awesome target practice…..