Hot tub + Beer = Worry

While Donna and I were still living in Grand Ledge, some friend of ours held a “hot tub” warming party. They had just finished their new deck and hot tub. Their house was out in the boondocks and they were going to have a bonfire also. I was working a mid shift and got off around 8, so I was meeting Donna and the kids out there. I arrived and it was a good party. I had brought my own, a six pack of Killians.

I hadn’t eaten that day, so after the first two beers I was in the Zone. My plan was to nurture my remaining 4 beers and make them last the evening. I had to drive, but 6 beers over 4 hrs doesn't make a drunk, at least not me. As I wandered around talking with friends, playing in the fire, etc, I realized it was a beautiful night and the beer went down very easy.

Donna suggested that we get in the hot tub. I changed into my trunks, grabbed my remain 3 beers, and got in. Since it was a “hot” tub the water was hot, but once I was used to the heat, it was no big deal. I finished my third beer and opened the fourth. Did you know that most hot tubs come with a warning not to drink due to the heat? Apparently it can increase the effect of alcohol. I was unaware of that odd fact. My downward spiral begins and so does the ramblings of a drunk mind....

Hmmm, water is hot. Not too bad when you get used to it.
(Time passes)
It’s a good night.
Looking down
Hey, bubbles. Cool. Boy, they swirl and swirl and swirl. Oh, that makes me dizzy better stop. Wait, I can't see my legs. If I can't see my legs, then they can't see Donna's. Hehehe!
(Move hand over to Donna's leg)
Her leg is soft.
(Strokes leg)
What are they saying? It is mumbly. Oh well, just smile and nod. They won't know your not listening.
(Nods, smiles and time passes)
Donna's leg feels different. It seems longer.
(Strokes leg more)
That is odd. It's smaller. I don't get it. Why would it be longer and smaller?
(Attempting to think, but seem to forgotten how)
Take drink that will help.
(Drinks beer)
It’s a good night. Uhhh, what was I thinking? It will come back to me.
(Strokes leg)
Her leg is soft. Soft. Leg. Soft and long. Soft, long and small. A soft, long, small leg. Yeah, I was thinking about why Donna’s leg is longer and smaller. Kool, I remembered. I am soo good. Lets think about this logically. Like Spock. Yeah. Live long and prop duster. No, stupid that’s not it. What is it? Take drink that will help.
(Drinks beer)
Live long and proper?
(Drinks beer)
Live long on prostitutes? He he he. Now that’s funny.
(Strokes leg & drinks beer)
Live long and prosper! I am such a geek.
(Makes Vulcan sign under water & drinks beer)
Okay, got to think. I am talking to her, so it is her leg.
(Strokes leg & drinks beer)
Yeah, it’s a leg and there is Donna. She is looking at me funny. Just smile and blow her a kiss.
(Smile, blow kiss, stoke leg & drink beer)
Wait, odd, something is. I can see Donna’s entire face. My head isn’t turned. Neither is hers either. Hmm. Very odd. What is odd? Our heads are not turned. Why is that odd?
(Drinks beer, Strokes leg & drinks beer)
Okay, our heads are not turned, we are looking directly at each, and my left hand is on her leg. It’s not right. Crap, Donna sees me staring at her. Smile.
(Smiles & drinks beer)
Hey, nothing came out. It’s empty. That sucks. If I was in charge, beer bottles would never get empty…Warm…and never get warm. Big breweries don't know how to treat their customers. Bottles that empty. What a rip off!
(Get new beer, attempts to take cap off)
What the hell? Its not coming off. Gawd Dam! Why do they put them on so tight? Well they won’t beat me. I am a not only a man, but a manly man. I will just twist harder. Owww. that hurt.
(Cap comes off, looks at it)
Who’s your daddy? Thought you could keep me from my beer, huh? I showed you. You are a little piece of tin and no match for my intellilicut..my intelligent..my smarts! My hand is bleeding. No big deal. It just blood.
(Drinks beer, throws cap in trash & puts hand back on leg)
Okay, back to the problem of the small long leg. My dear Dr. Watson, think clearly - our heads are not turned, we are looking directly at each, and my left hand is on her leg. I am looking at Donna. She is looking at me. Wait, since I am looking directly ahead that must mean she was across tub from me. Okay that is what was odd. Time for a drink or two.
(Drinks half the beer & stokes the leg)
I am so smart, I figured out that she wasn’t next to me. That doesn’t seem right. How can her leg be next to me, if she is across from me? Take drink that will help.
(Drinks beer)
Shit!! It isn’t Donna’s leg.
(Choke on beer)
Breathe, stupid, breathe. Take deep breathes. Get the beer out of your nose. Just tell them it went down the wrong pipe. Just smile and take another drink.
(Smile & drink beer)
It’s not Donna’s. Crap, who is it? Man, I hope it’s a female. Okay, focus. You can do this. Just focus your eyes, turn your head, and look. It can’t be that bad. Take drink first just to be sure. Hey stupid, make sure you swallow it before you look. I only have one left, so don’t want to waste good alcohol.
(Drink beer, turn head and focus eyes)
It’s a female. It’s a female. It’s a female. Yeah, it’s a female. Thank you god for letting it be a female. This deserves a drink.
(Drinks beer & strokes leg)
Okay, what do I do now? Hmmm – well, I should stop caressing her leg. Yeah, that’s a good first step.
(Drinks beer & strokes leg)
Come on moron, move your hand. Oh, yeah I meant to do that.
(Moves hand & drinks beer)
Dam, its empty again. It’s a conspiracy. They put less and less in the bottles as the night goes on. Dam, communists, it’s their fault.
(Gets last bottle of beer and opens)
Bottles are easier to open with a bottle opener. They should all be twist offs.
(Drinks beer)
Yeah, I am smooth; no one saw me feeling her leg. It will be my private little secret. No one will be wiser.
(Drinks beer)
Dam. I forgot about her. She knows, she has to know. I was feeling her leg. Shit! She knows. I am sooo screwed. Wait, isn’t that her husband? Crap, he is a big boy. He is going to kick my ass. Well, I deserve it. I will let him hit me and apologize. Yeah, that is a good plan.
(Drinks beer)
Finish the beer, so it will hurt less. Yeah. I finish my beer. We leave. The next time I see them, he will punch me and all will be good.
(chugs beer and gets out of tub)

And my memories cease. There are flashes. Donna drove me home. I threw up most of the way. We had to stop about 6 times. If you want an accurate number ask Brooke as she kept count. The friend never said anything about it, though for the next year or so, I expected her husband to punch me at anytim. I of course told Donna who thought it was hilarious, but she never said anything to the friend. Oh, this year we were with the friend I was caressing and Donna finally brought it up. The friend basically said she knew I was trashed, so never gave it much thought. Two years of worrying about being punched for no reason. Here is a friendly warning, be very careful drinking and hot tubbing, it can lead to a years of worry.

Da Bears!

Okay, it’s not about a bar, but is an adventure and drinking was involved, so it should fit. My family on my father’s mother’s side has a family reunion every year. Now, normally we (Donna & I) can’t make it due to Wheatland falling the weekend before or after depending on the year. However, one year it was earlier and we attended.

Over the course of our relationship, I have explained over and over to Donna that I am a redneck and proud of it. I like guns, fishing, beer, trucks, football, NASCAR, and yes, I have even been known to watch the high drama of professional wrestling. I also feel that duct tape is proof there is a God and 99% of life’s problems can be solved with a really large hammer. I just consider myself an “edukated” redneck. One that has adapted to city life, but still a redneck.

I don’t think Donna fully realized how much redneck ran in veins. She had only met my immediate families, who have lived most of their lives in civilization. She was now going to meet the folks from down “home”. It was a going to be a bit of a culture shock for Donna.

Now, I like going down “home”, even though I never lived there. There is about 8-10 house in the general area, so we call it George Town, but it isn’t even close to a town. It does have a post office, but that is it. The older generation, i.e. my dad, say there used to be two bars, but they burned down long before I can remember. George Town is located in the hills on the Ohio/West Virginia border and it is in strip mining country. This means lots of curvy roads that lead to no where and a lot of abandoned things to explore.

Anyways, we were spending the weekend there for the reunion. We were at a hotel about 30 miles away and decide to take “back roads” to get to the reunion. As we are driving along, we go around a curve and out of the corner of my eye I see a dog in the yard of this house. I use the word house only because it had a roof and some walls. It looked like a single room house that some one had added another room on to every year for the last 5 years using different color siding, different shingles, plus a lot of plywood and paint on each section.

About 45 seconds later, my brain finally registers what my eyes actually saw. It looked like a bear cub. I stop and look at Donna. Donna says “Was that a bear?” I replied, “It sure looked like one.” I turned around and drove back slowly. Sure enough it was a black bear cub. It was collared and on leash. It was in a fenced in area, so we couldn’t get close, but we got out and began taking pictures.

As we were standing there, a young boy came out. He was probably around 7 or 8. He was definitely from the area – barefoot, dirty face, NASCAR t-shirt, and bib overalls. He walks up and we nod in greeting to each other. He says “Ya like the bare?” We nod yes. He says “Ya want to pet the bare?” We immediately say “Yes” and the boy opens the gate. In we went and it was sooo cool.

The bear cub was about 7 months old. I would guess it was around 70-80 pounds. When it was on its hind legs, the head would come up to my chest. It had about 2 inch claws and fairly sharp teeth. It was very puppy-like and liked chewing on your shoelaces, pant legs, fingers, whatever was available. The fur was thick, but very dirty and slightly smelly. We petted it and played with it for about 10 minutes. We had muddy bear prints all over our clothes, but it was well worth it. As we are playing with it the boy asks, “Do you want to see the big bare?” We looked at him and dumbly asked “Big bare?” The boy said, “Yah, we got this one because our big bare was getting lonely. Pa found out that if the big bare got lonely, it might get out of its box”. Donna & I looked at each other and said “sure, lets see the big bear.”

The boy leads us out and takes us around the house/trailer. As we are walking by door a young girl, 5 or 6, comes out with a baby raccoon in her hand. The boy tells her we are going to go pet the big bear. The girl asked if we wanted to pet the raccoon. Of course we did. As we are scratching it’s ears, the girl asks if we want to see the squirrel. Donna and I look at each with “What the F**k” expression on our faces. I ask “Squirrel?” “Yah” the girl says, “It was hurt, so we’re fixin it.” “How many animals do you have?” I asked. This began a debate between the children as they started counting. In the end, they agreed they had the following – 2 bears, 7 dogs, 6-8 cats, 2 raccoons, 1 squirrel, 1 cockatiel, and they were not sure how many chickens. Only the 3 of the dogs, 2 of the cats, the raccoons, the squirrel, and the cockatiel lived in the house/trailer. The rest roamed free or was in the barn/shack.

The squirrel was in a cage in the house, so with scenes of Deliverance going through our mind, we declined to go in. We continued on to the back and yep there was a “big bare”. It was an adult male black bear. It was big. It was about 5 and half feet tall and heavy. The books say they average 400 pounds and after seeing one in real life, I would agree. They had it 10’ x 15’cage that was made out of some heavy duty fencing material. They fed it dog food also. While we were watching it, it rolled around rub against the fence, and was basically very cute. We petted is back as it rubbed against the fence and generally were in awe.

The boy was standing next to me. He looked up and asked “Ya want to feed it? It likes apples.” He reaches in box near the cage and pulls out an apple. He puts in the palm of his hand and sticks his arm through the fence. The bear came up and took the apple from his hand and eats it. The boy then hands me an apple. The internal fight begins.

Civilized me – This is stupid!
Redneck me – This is cool!
Civilized me – It can bite your hand off!
Redneck me – This is cool!
Civilized me – It doesn’t know you & it can bite your hand off!
Redneck me – Watch this!

Yep, redneck me won, so I stuck my hand in and fed the “big bear”. The bear was very gentle as it took the apple from my hand. I was very grateful that it left my arm intact. The boy asked if I wanted to feed it another one. However, Donna had that “why are men stupid” look on her face, which helped my civilized part take back control, so I declined. As we stood there the bear decide to show me how stupid I was. There was a cast iron bathtub in the cage with bear. It looked like it weighed a couple hundred pounds. The bear began using it as toy. It put one paw on it and flipped it to the other end of the cage. It walked down to the other end and flipped it back. There was no effort on its part. The thing was casually flipping 200#’s as if it was a pillow. Nothing like seeing raw strength in action to remind a person that man may be on top of the food chain, but only because we don’t go one on one with animals.

We thanked the boy and girl and continued on our way. Donna had taken several pictures during our time there to confirm we were not hallucinating. Alas, the store we dropped them off to be developed at lost the entire roll of film. However, “da bears” & the redneck petting zoo will live long in our memory.