Page 52 of Perfect Mess

Gary pointed to the creek. “You could pretend you’re a beaver.”

“Hilarious. I’m being serious. I really have to go.”

“You see that tree over there? Or that one. Also that bush.” Gary randomly pointed at various trees, bushes, and shrubs. None of which looked like an acceptable bathroom.

“Sure, it’s easy for you boys. You just unzip your fly and whip it out.”

“It’s not really a whipping motion,” said Gary. “It’s more of a gentle gathering and positioning. It’s not like you’re wrangling a fire hose that’s flailing about.”

“Maybe not in your case. You know they make little blue pills for that.”

“Trust me. I don’t need any pills.” Our eyes snagged. Like a swath of tangled vines in the middle of a forest and a pair of untied shoe laces on a pair of hiking boots. A flash of warmth crept all the way up my spine, where it pooled in the creases around my neck.

“Good for you then.” I looked into the trees, which grew thicker and more tangled as they went deeper off the trail. “I’m not going in there. There are probably spiders.”

“There are definitely spiders.”

“And snakes.” I looked at the surrounding ground to make sure one of them wasn’t slithering up on us right then and there.

Gary nodded. “Snakes and spiders, for sure. But you should really be more concerned with the bears and the wild pigs.”

“Wild pigs?” It was like we were taking a nature walk through a National Geographic documentary.

Gary pointed to a patch of mud along the bank of the creek on the other side. It looked like a tribe of preschoolers armed with pails and shovels had attempted to create a replica of the grand canyon. “They dig up the dirt to find grubs.”

“Okay,” I said. “So let’s just play this out. Let’s say I go over there behind that bush. I pull down my pants. I squat down. I start to pee. You following along so far?”

“Unfortunately.”

“A wild pig comes along, catches me with my pants down, literally. What would a former Eagle Scout have me do?”

“Not former. Once a scout, always a scout.” I was not at all surprised. “Drawing upon my Eagle Scout expertise, I would suggest you stand up and make yourself as large as possible. Raise your arms. Try to look intimidating.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips.

“Exactly. Just like that.” Gary continued, “Just don’t be threatening. Especially if it’s a momma hog and has babies. They can be very aggressive if they feel threatened, especially when they’re protecting their young.”

“So intimidating, but not threatening.”

“Exactly.” Gary nodded. “Now if’s a bear, lie down in the fetal position and slather yourself with honey. That way, the rest of us have more time to escape.”

“Can I at least pull my pants up first?”

Gary shrugged. “Your funeral.”

* * *

At Karen’s insistence,we “picked up our pace.” That’s when I learned that the only thing more fun that walking through nature is walking through nature at a picked up pace. Somewhere along trail “E”, she stopped asking for input on the checklist, and just entered the answers herself.

Deeper into the woods, we came to a three-way intersection. The “F” trail wound to the left. The “G” trail twisted to the right. Trail “H” pointed straight ahead. The woods were quieter here. The trees were darker. It felt like the middle of nowhere.

“I think we should take ‘F’,” Karen said decisively.

Gary’s Eagle Scout instincts were kicking in. I could see it in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think ‘G’ is a more direct route.”

Just to keep things interesting, I said, “We should totally do ‘H’.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Karen said, pressing her hands together like she was about to lead us all into prayer. “Why don’t we divide and conquer? Gary and I can go ‘F’. And Mary, you can go straight to ‘H’.” Karen gave me another one of her prize worthy smiles.

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