gotta admit it, when i first saw the thread title, i immediately felt a bit flush;
'oh, no! what happened? dwb? dwd? no, no, nooooo! say it ain't so!'
whew, got it wrong.....
so, after a request from my non-profit, get city kids to the great outdoors crew leaders a month ago ('c'mon cliffy, ur some kind of half-azzed beagle, figger out a way that we can do sumthin, anything, to get us back in business - it's been forever!), i lazer like review the 'rules' of our national organization and realize that, wait, hoad up, none of it applies to a non-official gathering of adults! (18 or over.) coolaroni! come on down! we're camping at cliffy's!
hanging at the campfire, with aboot a dozen or so dudes and dudettes, we catch up. earlier in the day, im bugging everyone 'what's up with X?' mr always serious, as decent and responsible a person as exists, karateman in grammar school, seems kinda missing a gear? break loose! what's the 411?'
not a single response. crickets. a few hours in of campfire jibberjabber, during which they learn that i now treat them as adults, cuz they are, one gent breaks out a bottle of hooch, and another does too. after earlier checking out their tents which stank from u know what, i'm like 'hey! u ain't kids anymore, ur grown people, so all good.' of course, they know me well, and forever, so senorita starts in, 'ok, but where's the lecture?'
be quiet, i sez, and proceed to explain a common life journey where u reach a point and decide 'im thru with barfing.' u are all hereby, by royal decree, required to promise that nobody drives anywhere. period! no prob, clifster. the mellow kicks in, and soon, X informs us that aboot 4 months ago he got shot. dang dude, u look fine to me, but i guess that explains ur mood. some others didn't know this too, and started in with 'why didn't u call me', and such, and i kept saying 'he was too busy getting shot! what's wrong with you?' after aboot ahalf hour or so, with me yelling 'he was too busy getting shot to worry aboot ur problem!' it becomes funny, like crack u up funny, and X (as gentle and regal a dude as exists) starts saying 'i was too busy getting shot!' physically, he's fine (1 month in the hospital), and we brought him back to the here and now. after then hearing dinogirl stories of getting chased and stalked by a polar bear, up at baffin island on a anthro research trip, (long tale, involving a crazed bear who, after legally getting shot and dedded- they have inquisitions for this stuff up there, it was learned that yogi had a real bad tooth infection, and had eatin a #10 can of coffee, and another of syrup, ripped up tents and stuff, all night bear watches, the whole nine yards...), i say 'i gotta ask a question here.
what does 'going on the wall' mean to youse?' universally, the response was 'seriously? what's wrong with you farmboy?' i was like, 'yeah, me too.'
bulldog u dinogirl, and doc (6'5'', early 30's, md, internist, and phd, handsome as all getout in a denzil kind of way) are group leaders. the rest were all in, seemingly diapers, just yesterday. 'young buffet' is now taller than doc. sweet. prolly gonna need to borrow sum cash from that guy one day.
i am quite pleased to learn that all are now in higher ed, and/or gainfully employed at serious jobs. how cool is that?
i know lots of folks, including me, who got shot. i ain't never met no person who got chased/stalked by a polar bear. not a one.
now, that's special.
lessons learned: don't get shot, and don't get chased by polar bears whacked outta they head. or even just polar bears not whacked outta their head.
fishboy taught a few how to fish, and sum high level popo came by to talk to the posse aboot police careers.
a good time was had by all.