The Devil is in the Details

Good news dedicated readers! There's going to be a guest writer for an upcoming post. Unfortunately it's not quite ready, so in the meantime I thought I would share another brief glimpse into my laughable life. This one is especially fresh, having occurred only two weeks ago. But first, a little back ground.

This year I decided to observe Lent and give something up for the weeks leading up to Easter. On a whim I decided that I would take up the challenge of the Daniel Fast. For the Lenten season I would restrict my diet to only fruits, vegetables, grains and water. Nothing with added sugars, nothing made with yeast, and no meat.

After the coffee withdrawal symptoms subsided and my head stopped pounding things were actually going quite well. Then one afternoon, about three weeks into the fast, I was sitting in a meeting at work. Someone there had brought in a bag of Twizzlers and was passing it around the room. What a nice gesture. Little did I know that the devil was in attendance at that meeting. Without thinking about it I grabbed a Twizzler and took a big bite off the end. While chewing it dawned on me that Twizzlers were neither a vegetable, nor a grain and despite their bright colored facade they weren't even a fruit. What to do! The devil tricked me! Not wanting to make a scene during the middle of the meeting by spitting out the Twizzlers into the nearest garbage can I had to go back to the drawing board. Unfortunately I'm not sure my Plan B was any better. I played the fake cough card. **Cough** Then while I was covering my mouth with my hand I did a little slight-of-hand and slipped the red confetti contents of my mouth into my hand and slyly slipped the evidence into my pocket. No one would ever be the wiser.

That should have been the end of it, but nope. Throughout the course of the meeting I had completely forgotten about the bits and pieces in my pocket. It wasn't until I got home that night when I stuck my hand into the red waxy ball of candy that I was reminded of the events of the day. The moral of the story? Don't take candy from strangers, especially ones that have pointy tails and are dressed all in red. Also,despite popular belief the Devil's weapon of choice isn't a pitchfork, it's a licorice whip.

Aint No Mountain High Enough

I'm not sure how to classify this next story. It was definitely scary and a little unnerving while it was happening but in retrospect, it's not particularly humorous. That doesn't mean you can stop reading this now though, it's still a rather good story. I give no guarantees though.

It all begins with a little vacation a friend and I took to Spain. For one of our activities we had planned to hike up to the top of the mountain just outside of the city we were staying in. After talking to a few people they had recommended planning for it to take at least 8 hours to complete. Obviously they had no idea of what kind of peak physical condition my friend and I were in so I convinced myself that it would only take about 6 hours.

Well, the morning of the big hike finally came and my friend was feeling absolutely horrid. I decided to take a stroll around the city center and check back with my friend in an hour to see if he was feeling any better. An hour came and went and he was still in no shape to climb a mountain that day so I set out by my lonesome towards the foot of the mountain.

After walking to the base of the mountain outside of town, which alone took nearly an hour, I was still disillusioned in thinking that it would take six hours tops before I found myself back at that spot. Off I went, making good time, staying hydrated, marching along until...I reached a fork in the path. Seeing how I don't speak Spanish the sign was useless. After picking a path and sticking with it for nearly 1.5 hours now I was feeling fairly confident. That confidence was crushed when my winding path slowly disappeared and I was face to face with a sheer vertical wall of rock. It left me with no other option but to back track the 1.5 hours back to the original fork. There goes three wasted hours. Back on track now I began ascending the mountain once again. A couple of hours later I reached into my bag and pulled out my water only to find that I had less than a quarter of my nalgene left. It seems that my confidence in my progress down the wrong path led me to overzealously drink my water supply.

The summit is now coming into view and probably only an hour away, but the sun is beginning to set at this point. I remembered back to some people warning me to make sure that I don't get stuck on the mountain once the sun goes down. The top of the mountain is steep, topped with loose stones and worse yet extremely windy. After a moment of deliberation I decided to continue what I set out to do and reach the summit.

The rest of the climb up was uneventful and once I reached the top I only took a few minutes rest before I began to race the sun down. On the decent I was sliding down a loose gravel path when I saw something colorful behind a jagged boulder. I wandered over cautiously while more of it came into view. I peaked over top the rock and was shocked by what I saw on the other side. It was a skeleton wrapped in some rough clothing or blanket. I was frantic for moment. What do I do! If I don't hurry up down the mountain that could be me! But if I hurry too much I could make a careless step and find myself tumbling down and hitting my head on a rock. I snapped a few quick pictures with my camera I had packed and hurried as fast as I could while trying to control my sliding on the gravely, windy, rocky mountain.

A couple hours later I met up with my friend who had finally found his way out of the hostel and up the side of the mountain. Together we finished the track back to our room in the dark. I of coursed shared my story of finding the body on the top of the mountain with my friend. Once we reached our room I took my camera out to help corroborate my story before we went to report to the authorities. While reviewing the photo something in it caught my eye which I hadn't noticed in person. I zoomed in, again, and again. Those weren't regular teeth; they were too long and sharp. And that wasn't hair, it was too course and patchy. This wasn't the body of a human but instead I had stumbled across that of a dog. A strange sense of relief passed through me. I was glad that I hadn't stumbled upon human remains but it somehow seemed to invalidate my fear that I had felt while descending the mountain. In the end you have to let sleeping dogs lie.

Places to Be and Things To Do

Time for a change of pace. Instead of me telling you an awkward story from my life I’m going to tell you one that more pertains to someone else but I was present when it happened. It’s a story of quick thinking when being caught off balance and playing it cool.

It was a summer night in Grand Rapids and my friend and I found ourselves walking down some side streets near down town after parking the car. We were walking along, joking around, probably talking about ideas for tattoos, real important stuff. We were coming up to a street corner when we were approached. It was a homeless man asking for a moment of our time.

“S’cuse me, could you…”

If you’ve ever visited a larger city you know the situation I’m talking about. It’s not that you’re afraid of homeless people or don’t want to help them. In fact, most of the time I end up feeling terrible about myself after such run-ins which is I why I often avoid those situations as much as possible.

Anyway, this story isn’t about me this time. My friend, whom I was with, decided to take the lead and respond to the homeless man. See, where I often am so flustered, my friend excels and carries himself with such poise, such confidence and with such fluidity. He interjected the pleas of the less fortunate with:

“Sorry, we…have…to..uh..be over there….now.”

Well, we certainly couldn't stay there after that embarrassing display so we began to cross the street. We made it only a couple of steps when my friend turned to me, “Man, I’m terrible with excuses.” He wasn't lying, that was an awful display of stammering. But the fact that he said it to me quite loudly and only a few feet, well within earshot of the man really accentuated the event.

Moral of the story: Be prepared. Make note cards, even crib sheets if you have to. And if all else fails and you find yourself halfway through an awkward sentence with nowhere to go, try turning it around. Stop, take a breath, wait a few seconds and say, “…you were saying?” or “…well, go on.” It can’t make things worse than it already is and if it works it will be one of your new crowning achievements.

This Is Nuts

In case there are those who might be inclined to think that my embarrassing moments are all behind me this next story comes from a more recent encounter that occurred this past summer. I have to preface it by saying that it's not nearly as painful as the previous but much more comical. Think of it more as a reincarnation of a cartoon caper.

I was sitting on my couch watching some television while I was mixing up some gelato, and before you all get distracted, no, the gelato did not turn out well. Then I heard a sound which sounded to be coming from the kitchen. I didn't think it was too strange and that it was probably just one of my friends letting themselves into my home. I called out only half expecting any response and wasn't surprised when I got none. A minute later I heard a much louder cacophony of sound. Someone was definitely there. I walked to the kitchen, mixing bowl in hand only to discover that the entry door in the kitchen was still tightly closed. Very Strange. Then it happened again, only this time it came from behind me, from near the sink. I spun in place only to see two small black eyes staring back at me. It was a squirrel! A squirrel had chewed through the screen window above my sink and had climbed in and was now sitting on its haunches staring back at me. I didn't know what to do so I thought the best thing to do was to throw the fork I had been using for mixing at him. I missed but my fuzzy tailed friend took off running down the counter. I had him on the run so I did the first thing that came to mind and chased after him. Once he had reached the end of the counter and nowhere to go he turned around and once again we were face to furry face. Then the tables turned and he began running right at me and my instincts kicked in and I started running in the opposite direction. Soon it was me who was cornered in my small kitchen and I spun around. Utensil-less I found myself with no ammunition so I did the next best thing and started yelling at him. "Ahhhhh!!!" Over and over again I launched my verbal assault hoping my words would direct him towards the hole in the screen window from where he had come. After a minute of running back and forth, yelling and squeaking I finally managed to corral the squirrel back outside.

It was finally over. The intruder had left and as I looked around my kitchen at the chaos that had taken place in the preceding minutes I saw my cat staring quizzically from the door frame wondering what all the commotion was about and why I had to interrupt her from her afternoon nap. I guess the saying is true:
I scream,
Squirrels squeak,
We all scream,
When I make Italian ice cream.

It's All Downhill From Here

Here's another treasure from a few years back that is sure make you feel better about yourself by comparison. As a warning, this story is particularly bad so do not use this story to make any snap judgments about me. I wish things had happened differently.

At the time I had recently started a new job and was on my first business trip out to Colorado to meet with partnering company. We were in a session of afternoon meetings and presentations and we found ourselves waiting while the presenter was plugging into the projector.

I began small talking with one of the persons there who happened to be a very avid skier. He then began telling this story about how he and two of his friends had climbed this mountain to do some back woods skiing one afternoon. He went into this gripping story of how on the way down the slope an avalanche had broke and began chasing them down. They couldn't outrun the wall of snow so they headed towards the edges to try to get out of its path. He concluded this adrenaline filled story with him finally reaching the tree line off to the side.

I had this huge smile and wide eyes on my face as I exclaimed how incredible and awesome that experience must have been. The adrenaline junkie in me was jealous over the excitement he must have felt while outrunning an avalanche. I told him all this while trying to hold back a laugh because I thought that must have been the best time of his life and nothing could top such a fun experience.

Then everything changed. I watched as the face of this racer of avalanches became beet red. My laughter faded quickly. The story wasn't over.

"After the avalanche had passed I went back out onto the slope. After I found my first friend and realized it was already too late I had to decide if I should continue to unbury him or search for my other fiend."

That's it. That's how this story ended, with a twist I never imagined happening. Out of all the embarrassing moments and awkward situations I have found myself in this one left me feeling the worst. Here I was on one of my first business trips laughing as my host told me the story of how he lost two of his best friends in one swift swoop of an oversized snow bank. I was paralyzed, I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to make things worse.

I never went back. That was my first and only trip there. I can't help but think this has helped solidify my hatred for the winter season. Even though this occurred in July I feel completely justified in using this as a supporting reason as to why winter is the worst season of all. The more important thing to take away is to save you laughter until the end because there may be a punch line you just don't see coming, one that will knock the wind right out of you.

Fences Make Good Neighbors

It's been a while since my last entry, but do not worry, I've got a good story to share. It's not so much embarrassing as it is just a moment that I thought I would get to share with everyone else. It mixes relaxation, camping, and animals in such a way that made for a very exciting weekend.

Late this past summer my friends and I planned out a nice long weekend camping trip on the outskirts of Muskegon. We had it all; there were friends, fires, s'mores, grilling and tubing down the river. But that wasn't the most exciting part. The first night we were there we were bombarded by an unexpected guest, Mr. T Storm. We're not talking about a light sprinkling, We're talking about nearly 7 hours of cats and dog raining. If you've ever stayed in a tent in the rain you know that no matter how "water proof" a tent claims to be somehow water manages to persevere and find a way inside. By the time morning came we were laying in a huge puddle of rain water.

Although the weekend was off to a rough start everything turned around after that and we all had a blast tubing, sitting around the fire and grilling. By the time it was time to go who knew that the most eventful part was yet to come. We had heard that there was some kind of fenced in animal reserve like area. We searched around till we found it and then we walked around the perimeter till we ran into some fawns. They were right along the fenced and would like your hand when you put it through the fence. They would nuzzle right up to the fence while you would pet them. After petting the deer we continued walking along the fence until we came to some giant elk and then just beyond those were some bison or buffalo or something like that. Considering how tame the fawn were I decided to see if the buffalo were equally as friendly. I slowly walked up to the fence. Now I have to pause to clarify. When I saw fence I'm talking about a weak chicken-wire like fence, not the inter-woven chain ink variety. I found a small break in the fence and stuck my hand through. A buffalo that was about 15 feet away say my hand and flipped out. The next sight I saw was a huge 8 feet buffalo was barrelling toward me and the only thing between me and him was a pipe-cleaner fence. My initial reaction was to run but then I remembered that you aren't supposed to make any quick motions. I was torn, run for my life, or stand my ground against a couple ton bison. No where have I ever heard the correct response to a bison attack. After doing some kind of shuffle-stutter-step dance, right before the beast was going to smash through the fence it fell over onto it's side repeatedly. Odd... Well I wasn't about to wait for it to come to it's senses so I began to slowly walk backwards away from it. The entire time I was walking away it continued to follow me along the fence line. When we came along to a corner in the fence it got "stuck" and I was able to safely lose him.

That buffalo encounter was the exciting conclusion to the fun filled camping weekend extravaganza. Now for a few words of wisdom that may save your life someday. If you ever find yourself being attacked by a buffalo don't run, but don't not run either. Instead, as fast as you can, build a chicken-wire fence.

What's the Worst that Could Happen?

This event occured quite a while back. Back all the way to my senior year of high school. As a part time job I was working at a performing arts theatre doing things like selling conscessions, counting tickets, and changing the marquee. At this time I had already been working there a couple years and was pretty much running on autopilot. One night after a show while doing inventory my manager told me that she would be out of town for the next show. Since I was fairly confident in myself I told her that I could manage the whole front lobby that evening. I had no idea what I was getting into. For the next show the trouble began even before the first curtain went up. I was informed by an usher that one of the guests were telling them about some kind of fire outside the lobby. When I went to investigate I found a garbage can on the sidewalk with smoke billowing out the top. Apparently someone finished a cigarette and thought it would be fine to just throw the rest into a trash can. After dousing the would be fire with a couple buckets of water I thought for sure the rest of the night would go smoothly. I was wrong. During the first intermission a guest approched me to tell me that the women's bathroom in the basement was taking on water. Taking on water? I didn't even realize we were at sea. I hiked up my pants and began sloshing my way through a couple inches of water to toilet that kept gurglin water from the bowl. At that point the damage was down and the only thing I could do was to prevent it from getting any higher so I turned off the water, put up an out of order sign and have maintenance deal with it as soon as possible. I held my breath all through the second intermission hoping I could make it through it without incedent. The house lights flashed indicating the intermission was over and telling me that I could begin closing up and that I had made it through the evening in one piece. Then, it happened, a theatre guest came up to me with the strangest news yet. "Um...I think there is a bomb in the ladies room in the front lobby." A BOMB! She told me she heard this strange beeping sound coming from the next stall over but was too afraid to investigate. Without even thinking I went immediately to the bathroom in question. A plot to blow up the theatre? Not on my watch. After checking that the bathroom was unoccupied I walked in and sure enough there was the beeping sound the guest was complaining about. The echo of the beeping in the hard tiled bathroom made it impossible to determine the exact source by sound alone. I slowly opened the stall doors one by one not wanting to trigger a massive explosion. By the time I came to the last stall door I was drenched with sweat. Here it was the moment of truth....nothing, all the stalls were empty. After a 5 minute visual search I had found my IED near the garbage can. It turns out my bomb was not a dangerous IED but a harmless EAD, Empty Aromatic Device. The device that periodically sprays the room with the scent of a thousand fields of flowers had run out and when this occurs it begins to produce a very bomb like beeping sound. What an eventful night, fires, floods and a near terrorist attack. That just goes to show you what trouble you can get into when you try to help someone out. Next time you think to yourself, "What's the worst that could happen" don't rule out the possibility that the worst may indeed actually happen.