In Between Insane and Insecure-Part 3

Part 3- The Origin of Penguin Face

Day 1,  ??? p.m.

As the evening wore on, the hard liquor began to catch up with me, and the night began to become fuzzy.  Images in my head include my friends around the campfire, eating snackies, and getting ever-more wasted.  Being a new dad, my schedule was completely haywire.  I was the first to fade, and stumbled into my tent, somehow knowing that tomorrow would be worse.  I was told that my sister drank more or less the entire handle of Captain Morgan's that she so dearly loved.

The next thing I remember, or don't remember but was told later, were Nails and Slatz trying to get me up by shining headlamps inside my tent, but I was finished, and nothing short of dry-humping me was going to wake me up. Well, my friends thought of that also, and proceeded to try just that.  I was told the next day that Nails was very gentle.  That's me there, all snuggled up in my sleeping bag.

 

In the morning, I woke up early, (another side effect of being a new dad.  As I said previously, I slept on the far left of the tent, Vixen was next to me, then Nails, then Kelley.  Nails, half asleep and surely hungover, was down to spoon.  "Vixen, your hair smells so good."  He unconsiously blurted out.  "That's actually me."  Kelley corrected.  "Same difference."  Was Rob's reply, without missing a beat.

Seemingly out of nowhere.  Slatz groaned, clearly just awoken, but still ready to take a dig.  "Smoothe move Ex-lax."  I thought this was about the funniest thing in the world, so I started laughing, and it was contagious, especially with Nails.  He is the easiest dude to get to laugh.  Most of the time, just looking at him with the slightest smirk will send him on a bender of a giggle fest that will last several minutes.  This was just such an occasion.  So much for anyone sleeping in.  Vixen and I headed for the bathroom building and we walked past Lynne's car.  We peeked inside and there she was, asleep in the car.  I knocked on the window to make sure she was up, cause I'm an asshole like that.

Day 2, 8:34 a.m.

Trid and her friend departed the area on a quest to replace the baggo board that I had destroyed on the previous day.  Nails cooked up some delicious breakfast.  I went through my routine with Fuzzynuts, who was pretty much appearing at every meal by this time.  The rest of us congregated around the campfire as Slatz and I started the blaze.  The ridiculous conversations picked up right where they left off.  We turned on the music, and it was a beautiful day.  Time for Bloody Marys and Screwdrivers.  And it began.  Nails cooked up some delicious breakfast and we feasted.  We had to coat our bellies for what would sure to be an even longer day of drinking.

After a not so long time, Trid and her friend returned from their trip.  "We found a Wal-Mart."  My sister placed a "wet floor" sign, that was obviously stolen, on top of the rock that we had all been tripping over all weekend and nearly killing ourselves.  "One problem solved." She said calmly, the rest of us just kind of accepting what had happened.  "And, we got a replacement for baggo!"  "Nice!" I thought, I was off the hook.  The game formerly known as baggo was forever renamed Penguin Face, by yours truly.  Strangely, it fit.  The boards looked like gian penguins, with the holes where the bags go directly over the penguin's face, thus, the origin of Penguin Face.  We promptly began a tournament, and game 1 was not a friendly competetion.  It was a no-holds-bar, drag 'em out, beat 'em down brawl.  It pitted Slatz and Emma vs. Trid and her friend.  Trid's team quickly shot out to a 12-0 lead.  Instead of fading off into the night, Slatz and Emma would not be denied.  They came back slowly but surely.  12-6, 13-8, 16- 12, 18-18! I was judging the contenst, and of course drinking my face off, which led to this pronouncement.  "THIS IS THE GREATEST COMEBACK IN THE HISTORY OF PENGUIN FACE!!!"  Well no shit dude, it's the first ever game of Penguin Face.  My Al Michaels impression would not be deterred; however.  The game was to 21, but of course, needed to be won by two points.  Standard drinking game procedure.  It went well into overtime.  Sweat poured from the competitor's faces, though it was mostly comprised of booze seeping from their pores.  The spectators were on the edge of their seats.  The competitor's nerves were like steel.  It was the greatest game in Penguin Face history.  The score ballooned to 29-28, Slatz team ahead.  Trid hit a Penguin face on her first throw of the round.  The pressure was on Slatz.  If he scored no points, my sisters team would win.  Slatz, however, channeled his inner David Ortiz.  He nailed a Penguin Face, negating my sister's clutch shot.  Trid put both her next bags on the Penguin, and Slatz missed his next shot.  If Slatz missed his last shot, Trid would be up 30-29.  Ice water in his veins...Slatz drilled a Penguin Face, setting off a celebration, beginning with me jumping up from my chair, spitting my mouthful of beer all over the place and exclaiming, "DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES!!! YES!!"  It was epic, and may never be duplicated.

Day 2, 12:57 p.m.

After lunch and a celebration filled with Captain Morgan's, we elected to hike up the nearby hill, leading up a 2.3 mile trail.  Luckily, Nails had traversed this treacherous journey once before, so we knew we would be ok.  After what seemed like a 4 hour trek, we began to ask Nails if we were almost there. 

He continued to assure us that the top was "right around the corner."  After what seemed like an additional 4 hours, we finally reached the summit.  Victory was ours.  Was it reckless to climb a mountain and peer over the ledge while completely shitfaced, with one mis-step leading to our untimely death?  Of course, but that was part of the fun.  The feel of triumph far outweighed the danger.

 

We climbed back down the mountain, after taking in some truly breathtaking views.  It was truly a place between the insecurity of man and the insanity of nature, and we made sure we appreciated it.  The rest of the trip went as expected.  We drank well into the night. Ran around with headlamps on, and woke up in the morning, ready to make the trip home.  We cleaned up our site and made our way home.  I was pulled over by a Vermont State Police trooper, who asked me why I was speeding.  "Trust me officer, you want me out of this state as soon as possible."

"Just right."  He said, and let me go.  What the hell was with these hippies in Vermont?