It had been less than four months since my knee
surgery. A few weeks earlier I
finally had my knee immobilizer removed.
I had cabin fever. My
roommate suggested we gather the girls and go camping. Hmm, camping…I seem to like that idea.
It was October of 1987 and we were having an Indian
Summer. We chose Columbus Day
weekend to give us an extra day to recover. I would go pick up the girls and bring them back for our
departure. It was Friday and my
friend had classes…well, I had class too, I just chose to ignore it. Drexel was mostly engineering majors so
we always seemed to date girls from other schools. This time it was the strict Catholic college, Immaculata
University. You heard about
Catholic High School girls…now imagine them in college. I did, and that was why I was there.
Being warm I took off my removable sunroof and rolled the
windows all the way down. The Immaculata
campus was usually strewn with Nuns and I always liked to have my presence
felt. I arrived blasting Van
Halen’s Running with the Devil and traversed the campus’s roads. Pulling up at the girl’s dorm room I
subtly honked the horn…yeah, subtly.
The girls popped their heads out of the second floor window and let me
know they would be right down.
They emerged so scantly clad I thought the Nun at the door would
drop. It reminded me of Cannonball
Run II. Marilu Henner and Shirley
McClain were disguised as Nuns.
Later, when they revealed their true selves, they came out in hot pants
and tight tops. These girls too
were no Nuns…and I had no problem being their Captain Choas. I jumped out to usher them
in…Hey, I am still a gentleman you know.
I placed their luggage in the trunk and hopped back in the car. I fast-forwarded my music tape,
cassette not 8-track, to VH’s Beautiful Girls. Because these girls were just that, and I wanted to let them
know.
We arrived in the woods around dusk. Tomorrow, a larger group would join us,
friends of the girls. This night
however would be only the four of us, so we would make the most of it. Even though the day was warm, the night
in the mountains was cool. We
started a fire and passed the bottle.
The girl I was with played the guitar…something about a woman playing an
instrument. We laughed, we drank,
we sang…until other campers shushed us…so we called it a night. Something about the campsite rules we
were told. We would get to know
more about them the next day.
It was around noon and the girls had designated a diner to
meet their friends. I would drive
them there and my roommate would hold down the fort. Well, their friends were late…four hours late. I didn’t mind, I had the girls to keep
me company. My friend on the other
hand only had the alcohol…and it showed when we returned. He was ticked and tanked. Luckily his slurring was slipping into
silence…alcohol has that affect.
The new campers began unpacking.
I had never seen so much booze…yes, me. The campfire was lit, as it soon would be sundown. What was an intimate setting the night
before was now a commune of campers.
A few hours in, the decibels rose…alcohol has that affect. My roommate had vanished, but no
worries, I had new found friends.
Soon I would have to take a leak…alcohol has that affect. I sauntered off to the boys oak
tree. As I was relieving myself a
shadowy figure passed. Big Foot? No, not unless he decided to wear a
Park Ranger hat. The noise had
gotten his attention. He quietly
approached the fire. Should I
yell? Should I warn them? No…they had to see him coming
right. They did not. He joined the group without anyone the
wiser. They had no clue he was
even there…alcohol has that affect.
He startled the crowd with his introduction. He proceeded to pull out the camp
registry and inquired, “Is there a Michael Walsh here?” I had forgotten it was I who rented the
campground the night before. When
my friend asked me whose name we should put down, I responded it didn’t
matter. I wish I had given that
more thought. I gathered myself
and headed towards my fate. The
guy looked less like Park Ranger Smith from Jellystone and more R. Lee Ermey
from Full Metal Jacket. I hoped I
would not be his Private Pyle. “Son, you do know there is no al-key-hol allowed
in state parks.” I responded I did
not. I really didn’t know and what
else could I have said anyway. I
was apologetic and he was surprisingly polite. He said he would have to confiscate all the alcohol but we
could retrieve it when we leave.
He loaded up his nearby 4x4 and was on his way.
I was the oldest in the group and they all appreciated my
handling the situation. Did I
really have a choice? No one was
really disappointed though, we were all already sufficiently soused. Things settled down when someone
wondered where my roommate was. I
told them don’t ask me how I know this, but you see that outhouse there in the
distance. You will find him in the
last stall passed out on the hopper.
No really…Yes really. Even
his girl did not know this. Not
believing, they followed me to the building. As we approached we could hear snoring that would make Fred
Flintstone proud. And there he
was. In the last stall. On the hopper. With his pants down around his
ankles. In all his glory.
How did I know?
Well, this obviously wasn’t the first time he did this. It actually became quite common. It started our freshman year. Tuesday was movie night on campus. We would have a few, and sneak a few
more in. After one of the movies,
an announcement came over the PA.
“If anyone is missing a friend, we found him in the bathroom”. Well, we were missing a friend. We thought we would find him
praying to the porcelain god. But
no, we found him asleep in the last stall. That night we were able to wake him up, but that would not
always be the case. For the next
several years, whenever he got too drunk, that was where we would find him. And not being able to wake him, and no
one wanting to pull up his pants, that is where we would leave him. This would happen no matter where we
were and what bathroom it was. And
apparently the woods were no different.
Each time he would eventually find his way back home.
Not surprisingly I awoke the next morning to find my friend
had returned. We decided to wrap
things up. As we left, we went to
retrieve the alcohol from the Park Ranger’s office. It was under my name so I would do the deed. The others watched in awe as I
approached, they had already given up the liquor as lost. I realized later it was because they
were all underage…I guess they did not know I was already 21. I approached R. Lee Ermey and he seemed
less imposing in the light. He
brought out our boxed up booze. He
looked over my shoulder at the rest of the group, and then down at the
abundance of bottles.
He simply said, “Were you expecting more people?”
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