I have it admit, East Tawas scares me. Lately, I feel old and the lack of toilet, running water, electricity, and a functioning Burger King within 50 miles of where I lay my drunk ass to rest upon the cold unforgiving ground, is a scary prospect.
However, we haven't done it in awhile. Obviously, I believe the last three years have been cabin-ized and though I do like the idea of closing a door behind me when I go to bed and having recourse in the event of rain or random August frigidness, it's time to get real bitches. For nostalgia.
Seeing as how this is approximately the 10th fucking time in a row we've done this (and I think that's a real pat ourselves on the back kind of situation--how many other people do you know who have been going Camping with 6-9 men that they love in a hetero man-love kind of way for 10 years? I only know 5-8 of them) it's time we make sure we get it done old school at least one more time. Even if just to say we can. And, as Tommy pointed out, there is a real cathartic value in just going somewhere far away and being there. Lumberman's Monument it is.
After all, the experience we chase in Tawas is the one that brought simultaneous purchases of bounty hunter caps and a plethora of beer coozies. It's where Kev wandered off in a boat as hairy Elvis with a sunburnt belly, scaring the locals. And then barfed because of the sun, not the Captain Morgan. It's where I myself upchucked from a folding chair mid-sentence. It's where Trevor drew blood and then scampered into the wood barefoot. It's where two people fell into the water, one sober getting a cell phone signal, the other drunk attempting to piss. It's where Paul lost an eyeglass and Nathan had his emergency repaired. It's where that dude next to us slept under a table. It's where Curt snored and then a raccoon tried to have sex with him. It's where somebody pissed and then laid in it. Basically, good times.
Let's all get on board.
By the way, this was written by Paul and not Paul.
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2 comments:
I am pleased that the record has been set straight: It was, in fact, the sun and not the handle of Captain that contributed to said barfing. What always gets left out of that tale is how in between rowing and barfing I played some kickass games of 'shoes.
Yeah that guy that pissed and then laid in it? That was me.
And Paul, have no fear, for you are not old. We used to be young, now we just are, and maybe later some of us may become old.
Haven't you heard? 30 is the new 20, which makes the hot new 25 year old waitress at work a deliciously taboo high-school junior.
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