Third Person Perspective

I found myself hiking in a small group up what turned out to be a restricted area. At the top of the bluffs, overlooking what was allegedly the most scenic spot in the entire Midwest, the crescendo of surrealism climaxed in a fortissimo when our guide showed us how to use slingshots on empty cans of cheap, cheap beer.

Two other hikers happened upon us (apparently everyone trespasses around here), and from their point of view it must have been surreal as well. They saw us in cowboy hats, giving Dixie yells with each successful strike of slingshot to beer can. We looked like rednecks. It wasn’t my idea, but the guy insisted.

The funny thing is, all the time I’ve been in Texas my experiences never came close to this cliché. And here, in Wisconsin, I found myself in a country song.

It chafed me.

But it was nice overlooking three states from a single perch: Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa.

Actually, no. The crescendo of surrealism probably peaked with the discovery of what just might have been a crime scene. One of us later reported this abandoned campsite to the police. Weird stuff finds me. I don’t want it to, but it does. For example, a few weeks ago, I found myself... well, I can’t tell you where I found myself. The Captain knows, but he agreed that there are some things I should never, ever blog about. Mainly, I need to stop accompanying people on little missions that involve police investigations.

My life is interesting in all the wrong ways.

Let’s hope this weekend’s activities involve more sitting down.

“I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.”
—Obi-Wan Kenobi