2004-09-13
About 11:30 PM Saturday night, it occured to me that it would be really cool to have some sort of network between all of my friends so that we all know what each other is doing at all times. If you ever think to yourself, "Hmmm, I wonder what old Congolia is up to right now?" then you'd know that old Congolia is busily flossing her toes. I say this because while I could've known that many of my friends were at a movie or at home on the internet, they could have known that I had just jumped fully clothed into the Lake of The Ozarks with Chris Newell.It was arguably the most teen movie moment of my life. All that was missing was some far off radio starting to blare a Michelle Branch song, and Matthew Lillard.
The other members of the Webster forensics squad had already partaken in a dip in the lake by the time she and I decided to take the plunge, but they had all put on swim suits like the unspontaneous, predictable lemmings that they are. But hey, after a long day of introductory debate theory, it was quite cleansing regardless.
This was my first forensics retreat as a non-competitor. Admittedly, I felt like quite the wing-clipped bird listening to everybody discuss events that they were going to bring up and who they were going to debate with, but I rather enjoyed the new perspective as a bonafide volunteer coach. In fact, while everybody was preparing for a debate round, Scott left and returned with four sodas - one for himself, Gina, Tom... and me. One for each of the coaches. It was almost as if he was saying, "Welcome, Andy. You're one of us now." Such a simple yet volumous gesture. He could just as well have been saying, "Here's a soda. Maybe if you have a straw in your mouth it'll be harder for you to talk without choking," but I prefer to think of it the other way around.
I missed the first part of the retreat because I had to run an HI/DI lecture at the Greater St. Louis high school speech workshop. Subsequently, I had to drive down to the lake solo. Now, you know that I think that Missouri is a great state in plenty of aspects, and scenery is no exception. But two lane rural highways? Whoa, Nelly. TREASURE TROVE of Americana.
TUCKED AWAY IN THE BUMBLEFUCK PARTS OF MISSOURI REST THE FOLLOWING:
- Camden, Missouri, home to a leathery looking wheelchair-bound man sitting by the road waving a giant American flag.
- Horses and cows in every yard from trailer homes to lush mansions. (The latter is how I'd like to retire. Make my fortune, get some horses and cows, and hide away in rural Missouri until I die, emerging only to go to the lake and patronize the local tavern.)
- A car driving down the highway with no hood.
- A unnamed shop with a sign reading, "Adults and More."
- A Baptist church in a strip mall next to a post office.
- The water tower for tiny Bourbon, MO. Think about it...
This is what the outdoorsiness and labor-intensive camaraderie of the Boy Scouts have done to me: made me a homebody for a home I've never had. Odd, I know, but if you find charm in any of the above, gimme a call. We got a road trip to take.
-Andy