Midnight in the Outhouse

This is a retrospective. A comment from a friend caused me to flash back to an incident from my youth. I was 14 I think, and attending a long weekend church youth camp. I should have known this would be a weekend to remember after the first disaster.

I had arrived at the camp early with 3 other friends and spent some time looking around. The camp in situated near a small lake and canoeing is part of the program. We saw that some canvas-bottomed canoes for use on the weekend had been dropped off so we thought it to be an excellent idea to take a paddle on the lake before the rest of the campers arrived.

The 4 of us dragged the canoes down to the lake and launched out. I don't recall going too far. But we paddled to the far side of the lake, got out to go to the bathroom, and then decided to head back. What we didn't notice was that when the canoe was pulled out of the water it was dragged up on a snag -- a snag that ripped the canvas bottom. We relaunched into the lake to return, and our canoe soon sank. Not completely, but enough that we got soaked and had to swim to shore, dragging the water-filled canoe behind us.

Sometime during our great lake adventure the other campers arrived. They were assembled on the bleachers at the ball diamond -- a setting offering a splendid vantage point of the lake. So in the middle of the camp director's initial talk, 4 drowned rats trudged across a dirt field toward the camp dragging two canoes, one with the bottom ripped out. I'm sure it was quite the sight, and created wonderful first impressions. it turned out to be a warm-up for the main event.

On Sunday night, all the campers headed into town, about 15 miles away to participate in activities there. One of the guys I was with was old enough to drive and so we left early and drove his car back out to the camp, stopping at a small general store on the way. There we bought firecrackers -- a lot of firecrackers!

Back at the camp we hid out in one of the old buildings. The we ran around outside, trying to stay warm, out of sight, and trying to position ourselves for the arrival of the rest of the campers back at the camp. We were so preoccupied with hiding, we were unaware that the rest of the campers had already returned and were in the main mess hall enjoying warmth, food, and fun. Finally the campers emerged from the hall and were headed to the cabins. From our hiding place under the camp bus we threw firecrackers out into their feet. Havoc ensued. Yelling, screaming, and general mayhem broke out as campers and counselors alike ran everywhere trying to figure out where the firecrackers were coming from.

Guerrilla-like we ran from the bus to the bushes to the buildings. The counselors knew who the trouble-makers were by now and were actively searching for us. But we successfully evaded them for what seemed like another hour or two.

Eventually one of our gang got caught and taken to the cabin for the night. This foreshadowed what happened next. It was getting very late by now and we decided to "hole" up and hide in one of the outhouses. A fellow camper, hearing the call of nature chose an outhouse to visit. It was the one where we were hiding. When he opened the door he said, loud enough for one of the marauding counselors to hear, "Hey, what are 3 guys doing in this outhouse?" The irate counselor came over and slammed the door shut.

He held it tight while another counselor nailed several two by fours across the door with the dire warning that if we wanted to get out we would have to exit via the hole. Otherwise we would be spending the night in there.

Unfazed we shrugged off the warning and proceeded to drop firecrackers down the hole. Great fun! This continued for some time until we observed that it was around midnight and we should wind it down. But how do we exit? Down the hole didn't receive much consideration and the best option seemed to be kicking the back out of the outhouse. And so we proceeded to do that, taking turns and gradually loosening the lower corner of back wall.

When we just about had it opening wide enough to crawl through, one of the counselors showed up with a bucket of water. When we kicked the corner open, water was thrown in. We kicked again, and more water came in. Soon we were drenched, wet toilet paper was everywhere, and morale was sinking.

More threats from the counselors that if we didn't come out and behave, our parents would be called to come get us had the desired effect. We surrendered. Soaked but unbowed, we returned to our cabins for what was left of the night.

I don't know if our parents were ever told. But the next day we had to repair the outhouse and for that day at least, we all had dish duty.

We do a lot of things as young people that we regret later on. I feel fortunate that I I don't really have any serious regrets like many of my friends. As for this little adventure, I don't regret it at all. Throughout my life remembering the little adventure I now call midnight in the outhouse has provided many smiles.

Wrecked Him; Darn Near Killed Him

A little while ago someone I know was mountain biking and had a pretty severe fall.

He hit hard enough that he required an epidural to control the pain. While he eventually recovered, he wasn't too clear on the words he was using. He went around telling people he had an episiotomy, rather than an epidural. His experience is like another story I heard....

The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express
praise for answered prayers. Suzie Smith stood and walked to the
podium.

She said, "I have a praise. Two months ago, my husband,
Tom, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely
crushed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn't know if
they could help him."

You could hear a muffled gasp from the men in the
congregation as they imagine the pain that poor Tom must have
experienced.

"Tom was unable to hold me or the children," she went
on, "and every move caused him terrible pain." We prayed as the
doctors performed a delicate operation, and it turned out they were able
to piece together the crushed remnants of Tom's scrotum, and wrap wire
around it to hold it in place."

Again, the men in the congregation cringed and squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Tom. "Now," she announced in a quivering voice, "thank the Lord, Tom is out of the hospital and the doctors say that with time,
his scrotum should recover completely."

All the men sighed with unified relief. The pastor rose and tentatively asked if anyone else had something to say.

A man stood up and walked slowly to the podium.
He said, "I'm Tom Smith." The entire congregation held its breath. "I
just want to tell my wife the word is sternum."

Moral of the story? You tell me...

Doublecrossed

When I think of embarrassing moments in life, I think of an incident that took place on a live stage.

Rewind to a time when I was travelling and performing as a musician. I played trumpet and travelled with 3, sometimes 4, other guys. For the most part, the other guys were pretty straight-laced and although they each had a good sense of humour, they were generally serious.

That of course was the recipe for John, the one other group member and me to regularly have fun at their expense.

Our usual routine was to go on stage, play a song or two, and then introduce ourselves, starting with Dan, the group leader on the left, then me, then John.

On this particular occasion, we were playing a sacred concert staged in a church – fairly serious crowd. John thought it would be fun to liven things up a little during the introductions. So he said to me just before we went on, “When we introduce ourselves let’s all say we are Dan!” I thought that would be really funny and help to be a great icebreaker.

We played a couple of songs and then it was time for introductions. Dan started first…

“Hi my name is Dan so and so and I am from such and such a town.”

Then, playing along with the joke I said, “Hi, my name is Dan so and so and I am from such and such a town.”

Then John said, “Hi, my name is John and I am from such and such a town and turning to me he said, “Steve, what are you doing? You’re name isn’t Dan!”

Needless to say, red-faced, I had to backtrack in front of the audience and try to recover some semblance of my dignity.