Apparently when I have more than one beer I become unable to think rationally. This weekend was proof of that.
I went up to my roommates trailer this past weekend, and for the most part I had a good time. Friday night was generally uneventful. We got up north about 9:30pm, unpacked, and decided that starting a fire and having a few beers would be the plan for the evening. Except that the fire would not start. There was nothing I could do to get the damn thing started, and those that know me should realise that I have no lack of experience in starting a fire. It just wouldn't light. Luckily, a friend of ours dropped by and she got it started. Yes, she.
Anyway, we were chatting it up, and for some reason Willy, my dog, started snooping around the fire. He was tied up to one of those long leads, you know, the ones that are wire covered with plastic. Smooth plastic. Catch your skin kind of plastic. Well, he got spooked, caught the lead around a planter shaped like a sheep, got even more spooked by the noise it made, and kept running. What I failed to realise before it was too late was that the lead was slowly (okay, it was fast but I saw the whole thing in slow motion) wrapping around my ankle. When I did realise it, it was too late; the lead was already cutting itself into my ankle. I screamed like a little girl for the dog to stop running, and thankfully, he did. It left a nasty burn, cut the skin, but it could have been much worse. Which Saturday became.
Saturday, it rained like there was no tomorrow. I kind of hoped for the rain; I wanted it to cool down because this weekend was pretty hot. I didn't ask for a torrential down-pour, however, and that's what we got. The ground that Johnâs trailer sits on is not exactly drainage friendly, so we were left to sit on the deck because stepping off it meant risking your life to drowning. Alright, not so much, but you get the idea.
The rain cleared for about 10 minutes, so I mentioned to John that we should go grab some wood from the bush that someone had cut up. While we were gone, Willy figured out how to get out of sliding glass doors. He freed himself from the trailer and started running around. Luckily someone who knew him caught him, but we didnât know that when we got back to the trailer. I thought that someone took him, and I was thinking âWho does that?! Who just walks into a trailer and takes a dog?!â We got the dog back, cleared up the confusion and got back t having a good time.
Anyway, because of all the rain, it meant not having a typical fire to make the âDrunken Chickenâ that my Uncle John introduced to us a few weeks earlier. (If you havenât had it, make it, itâs delicious.) Luckily Johnâs neighbour had a smoker, so we decided to use that because it will work in the rain. If you get it lighted and going.
Getting the smoker going proved to be another exercise. We had charcoal briquettes in it, but they just wouldnât catch. We poured some gasoline over some wood, and that still wouldnât catch. I would put a lit piece of paper into the smoker and the gas would smoke (no pun intended) and laugh at me. Screw you gas, I say, youâll light and like it.
Before I move on to what happened next I would just like to say that while I was doing what I was about to do, I knew it was a bad idea. I actually thought to myself that I shouldnât be doing this, but I was fed up at this point. I wanted a Fuckin-Drunkin-Chicken and there was nothing to stop me.
So, I took a piece of paper, lit it, put it in the smoker, and then proceeded to pour gasoline over an open flame. The next thing I know, I am holding a gas can that is on fire. There was no tuning back at this point; I had to figure out how I am going to put out 15 litres of burning fuel. Since it poured all afternoon, there were puddles all over the place, so I thought that pushing the burning Jerry-can into a puddle would stop it. Dumb-ass, gas burns on top of water. So I grabbed a plastic garbage can hoping to smother the now extremely intense fire. No such luck. Now with an audience, (what else do people have to do in a trailer park) I just stood back while watched quite a few people try to douse it. Suddenly I remembered that I had a fire extinguisher in my car. I ran and got it, and within 2.8 seconds I had that fire out. Too bad my memory was 6 minutes too late. I could have saved myself a lot of grief and embarrassment. Nature 1 â Scoutn 0.
Anyhow, Natureâs second point in the game came when I figured out I am allergic to grass. All the walking around in my sandals left my feet open to natureâs wrath. I am covered in hives and I am itchy as all hell. Short point for Nature, but still painful.
So that is my weekend in a nutshell. Point to self: wear shoes and donât use gasoline near an open flame.
Till next time!