Part 2:
We awoke on day 2, as planned, still drunk from the day/night before. As it was incredibly hot, the tents in which we passed out became like greenhouses very early in the morning. I left my tent to, remarkably, B-Ride cooking breakfast on the grill. Two bottles of vodka were nearby, and one of them had been cracked. It was 7:15 a.m. Not surprisingly, the lesbians had already packed up camp and had headed on down the river. Screw them for judging us.
A little something you should know about B-Ride. Vodka is his kryptonite...or his spinach, depending on how you look at it. He is the gentlest soul you'd ever hope to meet when sober or just drinking beer. But when he gets vodka coursing through his veins...he is literally uncontrollable. I knew right away it would be a long day. The rest of our group had begun to trickle out of their tents, and each gave the other a look of sheer terror. B-Ride drinking vodka at 7:15 a.m. was both exciting and horrifying. Either way, we knew the day would be memorable. We all went swimming in the river to wash some of the grime from the previous day off of us and ready ourselves for a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and sausage. It didn't take long for B-Ride to begin to feel the effects of the devil's cough medicine, and though he successfully pulled off breakfast, (he actually cooks even better when drunk) we could tell from his eyes and his goofy smile that the vodka had begun to take over.
By this point, Joey had realized his sleeping bag was garbage. As expected, he shrugged it off and let it roll off his shoulders. My brother is great like that. Slatz and I gave each other an approving nod as Joey actually laughed at the situation.
We packed up camp without issue and began our second leg down the Sacco River. Slatz and I were in one canoe, Merph and Nails paired up in one, Joey and B-Ride's little brother took one, and B-Ride took the canoe with the poor bastard that came up with his little brother. It didn't take long for the vodka coursing through B-Ride's veins to take control. While the rest of us chugged beer like normal people and floated in a strait line down the river, B-Ride and poor bastard zig-zagged from bank to bank. B-Ride's laughter could be heard up and down the Sacco. It was getting ugly and we knew it.
At one point, some campers had called B-Ride over to their site on the bank of the river, clearly either intrigued or annoyed by his boisterous behavior. When B-Ride drinks vodka, he gets violent drunk. Sometimes jokingly violent, other times angry violent...and the line is very, very thin. As we looked back to see what was going on, we didn't know what to expect as he approached the campers. We couldn't hear the conversation, but could tell by the body language that the interaction had gone well. After shotgunning a beer and firing the can into the previously pristine river, B-Ride and poor bastard said goodbye to their new friends and tried frantically to catch the rest of us. This only caused them to zig-zag more and we had to pull over and wait for these clowns. Poor bastard was actually helpless. He was stuck with B-Ride and there was nothing he could say or do to try to get him to cooperate and steer the canoe straight.
After about 10 minutes and another quarter bottle of vodka, B-Ride reached the rest of us. Out of nowhere, he jumped up out of his own canoe and dove onto the one occupied by Nails and Merph. He subsequently smashed both legs and his face on the business end of the canoe, and fell into the river, laughing the entire time. It was even clearer at this point that it was going to be a disaster from here on out, and our fun trip would soon turn into a mission to control the runaway train that was B-Ride on vodka. Amazingly, the canoe that B-Ride face planted into didn't capsize, but he DID wind up in the river, and it didn't seem to bother him. In fact, he seemed so exhilarated by the experience that he tossed his bathing suit off and threw it onto his canoe, horrifying poor bastard. We just watched, as he was now completely naked, standing waist high in the Sacco water. There was really nothing else we could have done. Reason was out the window, and if anyone attempted to approach him to control the situation, they surely would have wound up with a black eye or chipped tooth or worse. We were helpless...and B-Ride knew it.
He stood in the river as we watched him, wondering in amazement what his next move could possibly be. Luckily there was nobody around at this particular time, meaning the rest of us didn't have to explain ourselves. We thought B-Ride had passed out standing up since he stood perfectly still for about a minute, but we couldn't have been more wrong. We would soon find out why.
Suddenly his face was filled with euphoria and he let out just the slightest giggle. "I just pooped! HAHAHAHA!! I feel like a dolphin." We all laughed but we weren't even really surprised. A couple of us even thought he was joking until there it was, clear as day... a giant log of poop floating down the river.
"Not cool man." Merph said, obligatorily. B-Ride just laughed. I just felt bad for the poor sumbitches down river who would eventually come across this tree branch sized poop. I could only hope. We eventually got B-Ride back in one of the canoes, shrugging off the atrocity that he had just committed. At least his ass was clean, we figured. It had just been hosed down by a naturally flowing ass douche, after all.
It was only mid-day, and we were just getting warmed up. Our canoes hurtled further down the river into the unknown.
Part 3 and the conclusion to follow....
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