Next Stop: Batty

Hangin' by a thread, here. I'm just sayin'.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Bad Bear! Bad, BAD BEAR!

Friends #27 and #28 (Kathy and John) came last week for a sleepover -- brought their kids, their dog, a big bottle of red, and Kathy's prize-winning apple chocolate cake. Oh my, oh my, that cake was good. But even better than the cake was the following story:

Kathy and John met in Mexico while trying to save the world. They fell in love, got married, and went on a posh and pampered honeymoon in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Yeah, nothing says young love like the buzz of a mosquito in your ear and a complete and utter lack of SHOWER facilities.

Actually, I think the honeymoon in the wildreness thing is a pretty cool testament to the strength of their relationship. Steve and I would have ended up with an annulment. Did I ever tell you about our second anniversary when we went canoeing in the New Jersey Pine Barrons? Yeah. Portaged most of the way due to drought. Bumped into 83 Boy Scouts in 25 canoes -- and never shook 'em. Sprayed gallons of bug spray in an effort to rid ourselves of pine flies -- only to find out that the little f---ers LOVE bug spray. And somehow -- I don't know how -- it was all Steve's fault. Oh, how I LOATHED that man! (Loathed him for a good 5 to 10 minutes when the only way to discourage the flies was to build a fire, and we discovered that the Scouts, like a plague, had stripped the land of every stick, log, dry leaf or shred of bark which could have been used to feed a fire. I wanted to burn the boys themselves, but Steve wouldn't let me and oh, how I loathed him for it.)

But I digress. So, there are Kathy and John, canoeing and camping in Minnesota, bathed in the warm glow of newlywed bliss. The waters are sparkling, the birds are singing...the bears are watching. Yes, BEARS. Gotta love the bears on the honeymoon. Apparently, bears are certifiable PESTS in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wildreness. On their way in, Kathy and John were advised by Mr. Safe-In-My-Little-Green-Hut Park Ranger to treat the bears like pests. Shoo them, yell at them, scare them, make them go away.

Am I the only one who thinks "shooing bears" is a super bad idea? I mean, do they just hand out the Park Ranger credentials to anyone willing to wear the funny hats and the knee socks with the elastic holder-uppers? Shoo the bears. They're not squirrels; they're BEARS. And "scare the bears." Please. Let me see...bears = big, carnivorous dudes with many teeth and property rights. Kathy and John = THE OTHER WHITE MEAT. Yeah, I can just imagine all the bears shaking in their big, black, furry, spectacularly clawed boots.

But I digress. So, guess what happened? Yep. Kathy and John smooched and paddled and smooched and paddled until it was time to find a spot to camp for the night. A cursory inspection showed no signs of bears in their chosen little love nook. One is supposed to look for claw marks on the tree trunks and bear scat on the ground, says Mr. Oh-So-Helpful-In-The-Funny-Hat. If this story were about me? The statement, "If you don't see claw marks on the trees, you're probably okay," would lead me straight to the Marriott, please pass the key to the minibar.

But our intrepid explorers, Kathy and John, are snuggled in for the night in their nylon (i.e. NOT bear proof) tent, when SHOCKINGLY, they hear noises outside. They take a peek and WONDER of WONDERS! It's a BEAR! Now, it's that special time in the honeymoon when we "shoo the bear" and "make the bear go away." So they yelled at the bear from inside their tent. But the bear, being... oh, A BEAR... was not dissuaded by the little talking drumsticks in the little tent. That bear went right on helping himself to Kathy and John's pack, which was hoisted up in a tree for better bear access. That's when Kathy saw the bear going after the Snickers bar stash, and something inside her snapped. My friend Kathy then RUSHED THE BEAR, "Bad Bear, Bad Bear!," and GRABBED THE FOOD FROM THE BEAR, "Bad, bad bear!," and then HIT THE BEAR. At this point the poor bear, appropriately chastized, took off...

...only to return later, prompting a very naked, very white John to CHASE THE BEAR through the woods with his spikey red hair and his skinny, glow-in-the-dark butt.

The next morning, a slightly more thorough inspection of the campsite revealed trees with more claw marks than actual bark, and enough bear poop to sink a ship. They had camped in the heart of Bear Central and had lived to tell the tale, Snickers intact.

If you didn't LOVE this story, drink a liter of red wine and read it again.


At 11:10 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

"the other white meat" -- gotta love it.

At 1:07 PM, Blogger Shelley said...

Hee hee hee! Little talking drumsticks! Laughing and not even drinking.

At 5:15 PM, Blogger Trista said...

I love this post for the following reasons:

A. I love the word "smooch"
2. "skinny, glow-in-the-dark butt"
C. I can't believe you have friends who will put paper plates over their face for your blog

You are too much!


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