Don't feed the Bears.

It occurs to me that my posts of late have been more whiny and pathetic than usual so I decided to switch things up with a fun drinking story memory from about sixteen years ago.

See, it had been a really really bad year for a lot of the folks that I knew, and those of us who were still alive were pretty damaged, so we spent most of the summer of 1993 camping in the free camping spaces at this reservoir.

Of course we did all the things that young people camping do, lots of random sex and alcohol and other fun substances... Lots of sleeping under the stars and budgeting and begging to survive... Lots of wasted time.

At this point I should mention that I have a fairly deep voice (yeah, it seems kind of random, but it's important for later). I should also mention that my ancestry has gifted me with an incredible ability to metabolize alcohol, and though my current ill health forces me into sobriety, at the time I could burn through a quart and a half of 80 proof in an evening, and wake well rested at daybreak for eggs and beer. I digress...

Anyway, it was getting near the end of the summer, and none of us had been working that much, so money was getting scarce, which means alcohol was getting scarce (heaven help us). So on the night in question, our little group was down to 1 pint of E&J brandy, 1 Quart of Jeagermiester, a 12 pack of Black Label, and (most) of a 64 oz plastic bottle of Lucky's brand generic vodka which had been kicking around the bottom of the ice chest for the better part of a month (because nobody was brave/desperate/stupid enough to drink it, though a few of us did try).

Now I should explain that, though the campsites were free, the rangers didn't like people staying in one spot for more than a week or two, so we were always moving around to keep from attracting undue attention. On this particular night those of us who were living at the reservoir had just moved camp, which meant that (while we knew exactly where we were) the ladies in the group (who, for the most part, weren't living out there) didn't know where the rest of us were. Now this was in the early 1990's, in a part of the country where you still can't get a cell phone signal, so communication was not quite what most folks have so recently come to take for granted.

Anyway, for whatever reason the messages we left at our old site weren't received by our lady friends, and we were all feeling a bit depressed anyway, so we started drinking.

The five of us burned through the brandy and the beers and the jaeger in short order, and all that was left was the generic vodka (which had the look, smell, and flavor of rubbing alcohol... If you don't know what rubbing alcohol tastes like don't find out... That shit will make you blind [literally]). So we scrounged some seven up, and some orange juice from one guys truck, and started mixing screwdrivers in the jaeger bottle.

At this point I should mention that none of us had really eaten anything approaching food in a couple of days, so this was all sitting on empty stomachs.

I should also describe our camping space.

We had a fire pit in the center of course, but off to one side, about 30 feet from the fire was a large granite slab. Now (for those of you who don't know) granite reflects moonlight very well, so this slab was designated our latrine. Basically if nature called, we would walk toward the granite, do our business when we got there, then turn around till we saw the fire and walk back... This sort of thinking is important when your drinking large quantities out in the woods.

Anyway, back to the story.

We had been sitting around drinking for several hours, and the women still hadn't shown up, so we were passing around these nasty ass screwdrivers, trying (with a fair degree of success) to drink ourselves numb. (At this point I was drinking till parts of me were numb. Normally the numbness would start in the feet and slowly progress up the body as the night wore on. On this particular night I drank till I couldn't feel my stomach, so I figured I still had plenty of room, because I didn't normally get sick till my face got numb... Anyway, back to the story)

We had succeeded in burning through about two thirds of the vodka when we all pretty much decided that the world was spinning too much and it was time for bed.

Now one of the five of us had a tent, which was being shared, and the rest of us were just sleeping out under the stars. I was sleeping next to the fire because I was usually the lightest sleeper, and awake before most of the others (another habit that I've long since outgrown).

So were laying out trying to make the world stop spinning when all of the sudden the entire world lights up like a UFO abduction movie. Were laying there, trying to figure out just what the hell is happening when this giant, I mean giant RV rumbles down our little patch of one lane grave road and parks right next to the granite piss patch.

To this day I swear none of us knew there was another camping spot down there.

Anyway were all laying really still, trying not to make any noise, trying to keep the stars from spinning, when we hear the family in the RV get out to stretch their legs (sound really carries out there, no traffic, no planes, no people usually).

First the wife gets out, we hear her say something to the husband about how she thinks the campsite smells a bit funny.

We snicker, and the world spins a little faster.

Then we hear a kid, youngish, like eight or ten say something like "Hey dad, I think it's been raining up here..."

Oh crap, we're all feeling bad, but still trying really hard not to laugh.

This is about when the first of the guys realized that generic vodka and past date orange juice on an empty stomach is an unfortunate combination.

He rolls out of his sleeping bag and vomits violently.

Of course the sound of this, combined with the eventual smell, was enough to get the rest of us going, so a chorus (almost in unison) of loud, deep voiced, drunken vomiting teenagers rang out across that patch of forest.

I'm face down in the fire retching and roaring when I hear the same childish voice, awestruck and full of wonder say "Dad... DAD!!! I think there's bears out there!!! Can't you hear them?!?!?!"

So now were laughing, and vomiting, and all praying for some sort of quick painless death... And wouldn't you know it, that's when the women finally find the campsite.

It goes without saying that none of us got laid that night. In fact, only one of our special ladies stayed that night (not surprisingly, the one who eventually became a nurse).

We never met the family who's camping trip we all inadvertently ruined (they left well before daybreak).

The next morning we pretty much buried the campsite we were using (put a good couple inches of dirt over the entire site to clean it up).

It was twelve years before I could drink vodka again.

But that's probably one of the funnier drinking memories I have...

Maybe you had to be there, I don't know.

It's not quite as funny as the drunk in the duffel bag...

But I'll save that one for another time.