Day 2... Wahoo Beach
I am still in a bit of denial that this day actually occurred. I am in denial because there is no sane reason I would have married this man that I married after this BIZARRE day.
It was just an average day for him. I had entered The Twilight Zone.
You know when you have out of town guests you always want to show them the best, most fun, coolest places in your hometown. I was told that was where we were going. He loves Wahoo Beach. For added fun, he was bringing along a .22. That is a gun. It was a longish gun, like the kind Pa Ingalls had hanging over the mantle. Ready to grab and shoot a bear or an Indian.
Everyone remember that I am from city kinds of places. I am pretty sure that only cops and gang members have guns. I am neither of those things. I am scared of both of those things. I am a little scared of the gun in the truck while I am in the truck. What if we hit a bump and it shoots us? What if he drops it and it shoots me? Don't laugh. I am still scared off these things, and now my 6 year old will be carrying a gun as big as herself outside to shoot at targets down in the field. But... mud is also scary to me... Here is an example...
We drive for about 30 minutes or so. Up the most WINDY, CURVY, HANGING ON THE EDGE OF A MOUNTAIN KIND OF PLACE. I am scared of falling off the side of a mountain, or down a flight of stairs, or off of a 6 inch high stool.
We finally reach our destination and I don't actually remember having to get out and throw up, but I was car sick. He turns off of the highway and guess what... NO ROAD!!!! He just starts driving on dirt? leaves? Umm, excuse me? Where is the road? Oh, this is the road. Fabulous. Then we got to the mud. I am screaming stop. In front of us are giant mud puddles.
Can't go under 'em, can't go around 'em, gotta go through them? NO WAY! These are the kind of mud holes that will suck the truck down into them and we will drown, or be trapped or get dirty. All of these are equally serious to me. He is LAUGHING at me. He just drives... I want out. He just keeps driving. Just a mile or so up here. We are almost there. I am scared. The trees clear. We have arrived. An open area, littered with bottles and cans, mostly broken, next to a huge strip pit. Filled with water. I am going to make you a list of things that I don't like, in case you have missed it so far:
Curvy Mountain Roads
Any kind of dirt, especially on me
and don't forget...
I know. I am obnoxious and spoilt and snobby and ... obnoxious. I don't care, he knew me before he brought me to SCARY Beach. But here we are. A romantic hideaway. Have I mentioned that we are in the smaller county? There are no stoplights in this county. NONE. ZERO ZIPPO. Anyway, here we are and he gets out with the gun. It is about 8 degrees. Okay probably 50 degrees. I was cold.
This is the statement that was then said to me: Do you want to shoot some bottles?
My response:???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!????????????????WHAT?????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!UMMM, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you see all of my facial expression there? I have still never shot a gun. I am sure I would kill myself, or someone else, or take out a headlight. I cannot even use a hammer. Really. A gun is a BAAADDD idea. SO he shoots, we admire the water. He tells me there are lots of stolen cars down at the bottom. Probably some bodies. Yes, you heard that right. We will just move on, I don't even really want to discuss the dead bodies. I am sure Lake Michigan had its share of dead bodies since Chicago was home to AL Capone.
This whole time the radio is playing in the truck. Now pay attention to this next part of the story. I live this part. I ask him if leaving the radio on is a good idea since it will drain the battery. He tells me he always leaves it on. It won't drain the battery. I have always been warned that leaving the key on will drain the battery. But I also know nothing about cars. I didn't even get my driver's licence until the summer after my freshman year at college. So he shoots some more and I search for clothes behind the seat because I am freezing. I am bundled up in his old flannel shirts when it is starting to get dark and really cold. Is it time to leave yet? Yes
Click, RRrrRR... Hmm...
Click ... silence...
Click ... silence...
That is the sound of an old Chevrolet 350 NOT cranking in the middle of nowhere in the cold and dark. Yes, the battery is dead. D E A D !! (I told you this was my favorite part, that part right there, the part where I was right) After this I don't like anything that happens, but I really like to gloat over that beautiful moment of rightness. I think I just made up a word to describe how great it was... RIGHTNESS.
But now, in the name of everything good, how will we get home??
To be continued...
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Day 2... Wahoo Beach