(EDITORIAL NOTE: I was really gonna talk about this week's election results. But I'm sick of it. And everyone's got an opinion. I'm done. Instead, I present this Wikipedia article on Nature.)
By now, readers should know I'm allergic to Nature. I break out in cold sweats just thinking about it. Camping sounds like pure torture to me.
I once camped with my wife and her family. If it wasn't for the hot-tub and VCR player in the cabin, I honestly thought I might've died. I mean, a VCR player! What are we, in the dark ages? That guy in the Leonardo DiCaprio movie who crawled miles through frozen terrain with bear attack wounds? Feh, kid stuff. I mean, the cabin only had rom-com videotapes. Romantic comedies, for God's sake! Agony!
Not too long ago, my wife and I took a trip to Portland, Oregon. To tell you the truth, I was a little hesitant at first. Trees were mentioned. Lotsa trees. Lots and lots of trees. When we got there, my wife's bro and his family told us we were going hiking.
Couldn't sleep at all that night wondering about the horrors that awaited me the next day. (I mean, honestly, how is one supposed to, like, keep up on The Walking Dead or Game of Thrones when you're miles away from electricity? Civilization kicks mega-tail for a reason.)
And horrors it was. We walked WAY downhill to a waterfall, miles and miles of trudging through rugged terrain. Bugs strafed me. Sweat rolled off, a waterfall. I ended up hyperventilating like a whispery ventilator.
Along the way through the deep, agonizing trek, I spotted a pair of boys' underpants. Just sitting there on a rock. Scared the hell outta' me. I mean I've watched the documentary, Friday the 13th. How does a boy lose his underwear in nature? Did he get the shorts scared off him? Clearly, Jason was lurking nearby.
My brother-in-law and I made it near to the end. Not quite. We called it pretty and a day. We lurched back up, ludicrously winded and wetter than Niagra Falls. A little girl passed us, crying. My brethren in arms. But, no, Dan Haggerty that I am, I fought back the tears, trying to maintain a semblance of manhood. The allure of air conditioning dangled in front of me like a carrot, coaxing me back to level land.
Bro-in-law and I fairly collapsed in one another's arms at the top of the nightmare trail, vowing to God we'd be better people, just please, please, PLEASE never make us travel down to Hell again.
After that, I thought I'd put nature behind. But, no, nature struck back, still not finished with me. Once we got back to Kansas City, a plague of Oak tree mites broke out. Whaaa? My wife and I got shot-gun blasted with them.
I'm telling you, nature bites!