LURE OF THE HORIZON

It’s Not a Vacation. It’s an Adventure. - Day 2 pt 2

We made sure Kent was okay and he agreed to go the ER for stitches only after we were done tubing.  A man has priorities, right?  One by one we eased in to the frigid water pretending to enjoy it.  Okay, admittedly, after a few Miller Lites (“blue yummies” – Stan) we really did enjoy it.  …most of us.  The current was strong enough to make it difficult to traverse the creek, but not so strong that it couldn’t be done.  There were a series of waterfalls about 100’ apart.  None larger than a two or three foot drop.

As we went over the first waterfall and hit bottom each of us, one at a time, uncontrollably rolled forward, in defiance our body weight pitched back shooting the tubes out over the boil line.  I remember crashing into the icy water, popping my head up and taking a giant gasp of air.  I struggled to get my feet beneath me on the slippery rocks, fighting the rolling water that pulled me back into the waterfall.  I lunged forward, threw an arm around my tube, and climbed back on top laughing at the thrill and the absurdity of this whole adventure. 

After the first fall, the wiser of the bunch, Stan and Brian, opted out and walked the path along the creek as the rest of us continued to tumble over each waterfall.  The highlight/lowlight for me was one particular fall I went over and began to again fall forward.  I threw my weight back as a counter attack against momentum.  As my body began to level I mentally celebrated too early.  I thought I had won.  I didn’t realize that as I was approaching the horizontal position again, Kent came over the fall landing on my face and causing me to do a complete 360 back into the water.   Again, laughter ensued. 

After about a half an hour of freezing plunges over the waterfalls we agreed that this was becoming borderline insane and we opted to exit the creek, walk back to the trucks, and warm up.

While walking back to the trucks our body temperatures slowly rose from the fringes of hypothermia.  Kent’s chin began to bleed with intensity.  Rain started to fall as we performed quick parking lot changes into dry clothes.  Brian, Stan, and I followed Kent, Kelly, and Traver to the nearest ER where we did what any good guy friends would do; we dropped Kent off and went looking for a bar.  We found Pearl street which is a blocked off street full of shops, restaurants, and bars.  Due to the off and on again rain it was not very crowded.  We found a Mexican restaurant where we filled our bellies with mediocre food and good margaritas. 

We were killing time walking down the street when we noticed one particular store.  What earned our attention was the marquee.  It did not simply state the name of the store or the latest specials.  It read:

Kelly felt obligated to inform the staff so we walked into the store as he loudly asked the clerks, “What’s up with the penis?”  They were dumbfounded and unable to formulate a response.  He let them off the hook telling them about their marquee.  One of the girls said, “Oh, it said ‘open’ and someone probably took the O”.  To which Kelly sarcastically replied, “…uhhhhh yeah.  Cuz that spells penis”.  The girls, feeling slightly dumb, walked out and began laughing as one called her manager while the other took cell phone pictures that would undoubtedly be on Facebook before the call to the manager was complete. 

We found a bar that served us up a few Irish Car Bombs and we headed back to the ER to pick up Kent.  …only to return with Kent to a different bar and continue what we had started.  Night crept in while we were enjoying our libations.  Then a new kind of fun began: messing with Brian.  Brian is a good guy who has a great sense of humor and a strong moral foundation.  We used this against him. 

Prior to the trip we had arrangements through the friend of a co-worker.  This friend owns a house near the base of the mountains and would be a prime spot to throw our sleeping bags for the night.  We kept this information from Brian.  The set up began on the initial drive to Colorado.  Conversations began to stir about where we would be sleeping at night.  We knew the first night would be at the base of the third flat iron.  Beyond that we were in “wing it” mode.  Kent first mentioned that we could wait until after dark, find a house that was dark, and stay in their backyard unbeknownst to the homeowner.   Brian was uneasy with this but kept his reservations mostly to himself early on.

This night we drank until dark and then started on Brian.  We loaded into the vehicles supposedly with no plan in mind other than to drive around looking for a dark house that we could easily access the yard and escape  before the homeowner woke.  Keep in mind there was a moderate amount of alcohol on board (Note: The author does NOT promote drinking and driving; Brian was not drinking.  But I strongly support jacking with your friends).

Brian’s protests became stronger as we drove.  Stan and I stifled laughter as we slowly cased the neighborhoods looking for the right house.  We arrived at the pre-arranged house (which just so happens to be the house directly across the street from the Jon Benet Ramsey house).  Kent, Kelly, and Traver hopped out and slid through the gate into the dark backyard to “investigate”.  Brian began to cuss.  “I’m NOT f#cking staying in someone’s backyard.  This is bullsh#t!”  Stan replied, “This is Colorado, things are different here”.  At that point bottled water nearly passed through my sinuses as every facial muscle clenched to avoid busting out in laughter.  Brian had enough.  “You guys can get your sh#t and get out.  I’m NOT staying here!”

I told him to sit tight for just a minute, that I would check with the others and see what the status was.  He simply replied, “I’m NOT staying here.”  I laughed and walked into the back yard where I told the guys that we needed to let him off the hook.  He was pissed and leaving.  We all walked out and Kent broke the news to him that the homeowner was out of town and we had permission to stay there.  Rather than laugh and enjoy the fact that he had been had, he did not believe us.  This just got better!  He thought we were saying that so he would shut up and stay.  He wanted to talk to our co-worker to confirm our story and foolishly pointed to me as some sort of moral compass saying, “Scott, swear to God!”

Finally he reluctantly accepted the fact that he had been had.  Stan and I set up our sleeping bags on the deck while everyone else set up on the patio below the deck.  We all sat together passing Stan’s honey whiskey bottle and talked and laughed about the day we had just had. 

On our first full day in Colorado we woke before dawn, scaled a mountain, rappelled down the mountain, hiked off the mountain, drank, tubed the rapids, went to the hospital, drank, set up camp in some guy’s backyard, and drank again toasting the good life. 

Under the clear starry sky we slept well that night.