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This guy would have been SICK at Oar Toss!
8:47 AM
'Do you guy's want to do the 6 mile trip or the 10 mile trip?' Was he serious? He might as well have been asking us, 'Hey Nancies! Have your nuts dropped yet?' Having done this trip the previous summer with my brother but having not remembered which voyage we actually embarked on, we confidently told Old Man River behind the counter that we wanted the 10 mile trip. We were of course SURE that we had done the 10 mile trip the previous year. No self-respecting man does the shorter or lesser of anything fun when given the choice. i.e. 'Do you want to have sex with just me or would you want my girl friend to join?' et cetera, et cetera.
9:43 AM
Why would we listen to him anyway? We were men, goddamnit! Men with oars in our hands, raft in tow and the modestly raging waters of the Housatonic ahead of us. He was a high school river rafting guide throwing his barely triple-digit weight around with awkward arm movements and questionable flare. He was wearing what looked like the 'it' sunglasses from the 1988 AVP Volleyball tour. Yes, the ones with fluorescent rims and the band that goes around the back of the head. We didn't need to listen to 'the rules of engagement' about the river, pal. How fucking hard could it be? Go in the direction that the water is flowing. Don't press any sharp objects into the pontoons of the raft. Don't die. Baboons could figure as much. But there he went babbling to the geriatric crew and us talking about water and dams and blah blah blah. Having paid this kid's spiel less attention than the average male does while his wife tries to talk to him about the dirty bathroom during the 2 minute drill of the AFC championship game, we set off. We, being myself, my brother and my brother's friend; we were all competent, physically able, non-retarded, 20-somethings. The 'non-retarded' part would later be up for debate.
6 mile trip - expect to finish in 2.5 hours 10 mile trip - expect to finish in 4.5 - 5 hours.
This is no Colorado River. The guides don't go with you.
9:51 AM
Having no interest in the conservation of energy, the three of us powered our raft down the river with the same velocity as Colin Farrell drove his 'go fast' boat from Miami to Cuba in Miami Vice. The voice of our rafting guide faded behind us like the sound of a whistle of a passing train as he helped the older folks in their canoes and rafts. This was our river and no one was going to pass us.
10:19 AM
This demonic attempt to break some sort of speed record stopped as soon as were out of view from the rest of our rafting competition so we let the river do some work. We removed our life vests since they were apparently impeding us like straightjackets.
10:35 AM
Fuck that. We were bored. It was time to play a game. If you put 2 or more males in the same vicinity they will invent a game and there will be a winner and there will surely be a loser. We had a raft, lunch and 3 oars. After about 10 minutes of discussion we had a game full of rules and scoring. One of us was allowed to throw his oar anywhere in the river from the raft we were all sitting in. The other 2 guys had 10 seconds to row all 3 of us to retrieve that oar or the thrower would get a point. Perfect. If you're looking for a way to increase the lactic acid buildup in your muscles in the shortest amount of time, try this game. How none of us got smashed in the face while someone was throwing their oar like the big bearded guy threw his sword at the end of Braveheart, is beyond me.
We were zig zagging up and down that river like a fucking sailboat tacking in the wind. Halfway through the game, the rest of the rafters and canoers passed us. They smiled at us like were handicapped children competing in the Special Olympics. We waved. We knew we would catch them. They didn't realize it was a race.
12:02 PM
'Oar Toss' had met its inevitable pinnacle of satisfaction as we simultaneously reached the point in time where no one really wanted to chase after a floating oar and secondly, we felt lucky that someone wasn't applying pressure to an open head wound yet. We agreed that it was one of the greatest games ever invented. If the Biathlon can be in the winter Olympics, there's no reason that this sport can't be in the Summer Games.
12:05 PM
Snack time.
12:23 PM
The rapidly approaching not so roaring summer rapids of the Housatonic River were upon us. What better time for king of the raft?
To be fair, all three of us would start in the water equally spaced out around the raft. A couple of things kept this game from fully taking off from what we had originally anticipated. For starters, since no one's weight was actually inside the vessel, the raft was getting tossed around in the rapids like it was a bucking bronco. This made our attempts at getting any leverage whatsoever, next to impossible. If we were ever able to get a hold of the raft and hang on, the Hindenburg sized pontoon encompassing this raft didn't facilitate any respectable climbing maneuvers. It felt like trying to scale the walls of El Capitan with our bare hands. So in the beginning the game became, 'King of the side of the mountain' because no one could actually get in the boat. So we just elected to try and drown each other. The chokehold was definitely the move du jour out on the river that day. So there we were, the three of us floating through the rapids, outside of our boat, choking each other.
Every now and again the stars would align and we'd be able to get ourselves back inside the damn thing and have some fights ON the mountain. Shockingly, the floor of the raft was not designed with the rigidity of a WWE wrestling mat. It was like trying to get your footing on a greased up water bed during seismic activity. Feet, limbs, lunches and oars would flop to and fro smacking and poking us in spleens, thoraxes, and other unsuspecting places. The rope circumnavigating the side of the boat would LOVE to pull on a passing limb like a fucking arrestor cable on an aircraft carrier. Systematically you'd find your face jammed in a water filled corner of the raft while your diaphragm tried to enlighten your brain that the lungs are to not be used as gills.
1:19 PM
Ok we had to chill. I thought I had brain damage from asphyxiation, a cracked rib, 2nd degree rope burn, and my respiratory system felt like half filled water balloons.
The rapids were done. We rested for a bit and talked about all the brain cells we had just permanently lost.
Posts: 291 Rank: 25 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
East Lansing, MI
Posted: 8/16/2007 1:08:26 PM
Thanks in advance AB, for the impending destruction of several MSU girl's hopes, dreams and aspirations. While it would usually take large quantities of alcohol or benevolent use of wit and cunning to put our Neitzels in their Breslin Centers, you'll soften them up to the true realities of life, and turn them into hollow shells of their former selves, using daddy's money to buy useless shit at Hollister and J Crew, Kamikaze shots and mascara, so at the end of the night the full circle of their lives comes to a close with a penis in their mouths. Thanks again, and I'm sure you'll have a great time at MSU.
While you'll be drinking and having sex with bleached haired nubiles, I'll be unpacking my shit into my new house. But hey, I live here, so whatever.
I'm not submitting these posts to the court or getting them published, so I could give a fuck less is there's a typo. IN short go do some "squats" onto your big black dildo, and really, try to be more obvious about your insecurities in the future.
Posts: 453 Rank: 28 Joined:
4/23/2007
Location:
Jackson, MI
Posted: 8/16/2007 2:25:39 PM
is like masturbation; sure it's fun, but nowhere near as good as the real thing. If you are not drinking and endagering your fucking life in a river, then you might as well be in a pool, you pussy!
Posts: 1542 Rank: 6 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 8/16/2007 2:32:52 PM
I thik AB is not giving you enough credit here (shocking I know): considering you were in high school, out in public (and in nature) and were friends with her brother I think you did the best you could there considering the discretion that was necessary for the mission to be successful. Obviously, you want to hit the home run there and go out for the curtain call (curtain call = money shot), but sometimes you just need to advance the runner. Ok, I'll end this analogy now.
Posts: 1265 Rank: 7 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
TPP Island, NY
Posted: 8/16/2007 2:38:48 PM
Talking about lifting makes me insecure? 5 other guys talked about it too and it was referencing how we've all fucked our backs up doing various things. The only thing that makes me insecure is your talk of a big black dildo under my ass. I don't really know why i'm explaining myself to a little bitch.
in other news Mako returns with a headache inducing comment, yippie
*cuts arm to relieve the pain of reading said post*
Posts: 134 Rank: 14 Joined:
5/11/2007
Location:
St. Louis, MO
Posted: 8/16/2007 3:16:28 PM
As much as I would like to take credit for getting a handy from a friend's sister in the water, I can't. It was Asmar. I'm the one that fucks chicks in the water with everyone around.
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