The Perilous Pallisades

Prologue

I like to think of myself as a person with above average intellect who makes wise decisions. However some of the decisions that I make challenge that view of myself. Instead of repressing memories of momentary (or prolonged) idiocy, I instead like to embrace these memories because I will (hopefully) never do that kind of bullshit again, hence why I'm writing about it.

Part One: Manufactured Mania

The infamous weekend started out at a painfully asinine social justice retreat at Showers Point Ground Campground, a Girl Scout camp on Mt. Lemmon, which is the tallest mountain in the Santa Catalina Mountain Range. Those mountains are absolutely gorgeous. The environment goes from desert at the base to forest at the top. I had been getting into hiking recently, so I would have killed for a chance to hike some of the incredible trails. Sadly, the retreat took place entirely indoors. Between this isolation from nature, the moronic retreat, and the fact that all of the food there was tasteless and vegetarian, I was going stir-crazy. 

On the wall of the main lodge is a map of all of the hiking trails in the mountain range. It was fascinating, especially when I realized that it was only a 10-mile hike from the camp to civilization. That was when I started to make a series of very bad decisions, the first being that I was going to hike back from the camp to Tucson. I decided that during the day Saturday and spent the rest of retreat distracting myself by planning it out. I studied the map like crazy and wrote down my route. I arranged for two of my roommates, Brandon and Trieu, to pick me up from Sabino Canyon Park, my end destination. I was so dedicated that I dipped out early on a game of "Truth or Dare" with a couple of hot sorority girls, one of whose goal was to "get people to make out."

Sunday dragged by and the retreat lasted longer than I thought it would, finishing at around 6 pm. By that time, the sun was low in the sky. Here, any person thinking rationally would have considered the following factors:

1. I was going on a 10 mile hike

2. I had a huge backpack with my laptop, along with a small duffle bag of clothes.

3. I was wearing skate shoes

4. I only had one liter of water with me. It was the end of September in Arizona.

5. The sun was about to set

6. Other than an abstract map and a list of trails I was supposed to follow, I had no idea where I was going

7. I was alone

Said rational person would have stopped at two of these factors and rejoined the caravan home. What did I do? Throw caution to the wind, ditched the group, and started on my survival hike. 

Part Two: The Best Part of My Weekend

The first mile or so of the hike was the path from the Girl Scout Camp to the Pallisades Trail. It was great. I snapped some good pictures, found a cool hiking stick, and remained relatively ignorant as to the idiocy of my decision to undertake this hike. The mountain was forested in this area, surrounded by tons of Ponderosa pine trees. 

In my defense, the city didn't look that far at all

As I got closer, it looked further and further away

Suddenly, a couple of hikers came up from the trail. These guys knew what they were doing. It was two women and one man with massive hiking backpacks on. They were surprised to see a lone hiker heading DOWN the mountain this late at night. Turns out they were headed where I came from. I asked them how the trail was. 

One of the women, chuckling, replied, "Well, it’s a hard trail to follow. Let me put it this way: If you are in a field and feel like you are in the middle of nowhere, then you are on the trail. Just make sure you follow the Cairns."

Me-(puzzled) "What's a Cairn?"

Her-(With an air of conern in her voice) "A man-made pile of rocks which marks the trail."

I thanked them, and they watched in horror and disbelief as I ventured alone, with the sun starting to set in the background, down the long trail that leads to nowhere.

If I had not ran into these people, there is a good chance that I would not have made it on this hike. It would have at the very best turned out a lot worse than it did. Maybe there is a God. If so, he hasn't given up on me yet. Nice try Father, you'll have to do better than that.

Part Three: The Pallisades Trail and the Scariest 5.5 Hours of My Life

The sun was setting, and I started to get nervous. I had reached the Pallisades trail, and had 6.6 miles of downhill hiking before I got to the mile of the Arizona Trail that I needed to take to get to the Sabino Canyon trail, which was a good 2.5 miles until I reached the road that went from Sabino Park to the actual hiking trail. That is where Brandon was picking me up from.

I didn't think the sun was going to set so soon.

This wasn't a particularly friendly sight.

The trail led to a pile of boulders that I was supposed to climb down. I got past a couple fine, using my walking stick for support. However, when I was trying to get down this larger rock using my stick for support, it snapped, and I fell a second or two until I hit the ground below. Luckily I was fine, but I cut my leg. I had a first aid kit in my backpack so I pulled it out and launched a pre-emptive strike against gangrene. Losing my walking stick was pretty demoralizing. 

I reached landmark called "Mud Springs" established in 1937 It was pretty cool, so I snapped a picture of it.  

I connect with this photo, it represents my cesspool of terrible ideas

This was also officially the last part of the hike that I enjoyed. As I walked away from the basin, I heard a piercing rattle from the bushes next to me that sent shivers down my spine. I walked quickly away from it, and that's when the reality of the situation hit me: I was in an area with little to no cell phone reception. If I got bit by a rattlesnake, I was FUCKED.  This was also an area with wild bears and mountain lions. I knew that because it was on the information sheet hung up in the girl scouts cabin. They recommended that hikers have loud conversation to let their presence be known. 

So what did I do? Did I turn back to try to find those hikers? Did I break down and cry? NO! I'm a MAN! And I wouldn't let puny nature stop me. So I started to sing "Down By the Bay" as I hiked. 

"Down by the bay, down by the bay, where the watermelons grow, where the watermelons grow, back to my home, back to my home, I dare not go. I dare not go. For if I do, for if I do, my mother will say, my mother will say, "Have you ever seen a whale with a polka-dot tail?" DOWN BY THE BAAY."

I repeated this song with different variations of Down By the Bay along with some other classics (I can't remember exactly but I believe that I switched between "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Row Row Row Your Boat") .  See, at this point I was too freaked out to actually think of any decent songs to sing. After repeating the same Down By the Bay verses, I started to make up my own.  One of these included "Have you ever seen a snail, humping a whale," and other one lined-quips that I could think of to distract myself.  The funny part is, while the purpose was to scare away any fuzzy yet not-so-friendly animals, singing did raise my moral.  It was weird, I felt less fear and more confidence as I sang, even though it was singing songs meant for children.  

It did however awkward around the 2 hour mark when I passed a tent while I'm repeating Down By the Bay over and over.  The people were asleep even though it was only around 8.  As I saw the tent I did something unintentional yet hilarious, I stopped singing as I approached the tent from the path to stop from waking me up, but this could have made it worse.  If these poor hikers were awake, they would have surely found that to be a very disturbing moment in their camping experience.  Here they are, alone at night, and suddenly a strange, slightly trembling voice (it was the nerves) approaches from the dark, then mysteriously stops as the footsteps continue to approach.  No rational person would be hiking, alone, at night, on a trail far from civilization, and singing nursery rhymes.  As their hearts race, and they discreetly search for anything that could serve as an improvised weapon, and my footsteps draw nearer.  The footsteps draw even closer...and pass.  "Thank God from sparing us from that psychopath!" they utter.  They try to go back to sleep, but find themselves being silently remaining awake for a long while over the thought "what if the footsteps and the nursery rhymes return?"
 

I still hadn't quite grasped the reality of how fucking dangerous this hike was; I was scared, but I wasn't terrified.  I didn't wake the people up and ask them for water or anything.  I was pretty good on water still, or so I thought. I had around 2/3 liter of water left. Then I started to go down the side of the Pine Canyon.  It was around this time that the lights of Tucson dipped below the mountain range basin and disappeared.  The trail started to wind down this massive canyon.  It was maddening, and the trail was impossible to follow.  Multiple times I would get lost and not be able to find the path for another 5-10 minutes.  The cairns were really the only thing to tell that there even was a path, but don't listen to me, listen to the trail-guide by hike-arizona.com:

Below Mud Springs, the trail drops into lower Pine Canyon down a two-mile series of steep but solid switchbacks which tend to be brushy and rocky for much of their length. The trail can be hard to find in this area. Watch for rock cairns -- a cairn is a small stack of rocks -- to guide you

This continued for an hour or so, and that's when I encountered a wandering monster.

I heard a slight rustling noise on the path ahead of me and saw movement, as I got closer I saw that a papa rattler was heading in the same direction that I was, dead center in the middle of path, with no intention of moving off of it.  The trail and the surrounding terrain was pretty much boulders, and it would have been a real pain in the ass to go around the rattler.  Another option would have been to wait until the rattler decided to slither off of the path.  However, being a naturally impatient person and wanting to get this hike done with as soon as possible, I decided to beat this scenario on hard-mode.  Somewhere along the way I had picked up another, more sturdy hiking stick that was about 5ft long.  I took the stick and nudged the rattler.  Below is a picture of this alpha-rattler:

 Idn't he cuuuuuuuute?

The rattler didn't appreciate being poked. He hissed and shook his rattle lazily and continued down the path. Annoyed, I poked him harder. He hissed slightly louder and rattled with minorly-intensified vigor. This guy wasn't giving up, and neither was my irrelevantly-dangerous quarrel with this large rattlesnake. I took the stick and wedged it under his midsection, hoisting him into the air. This really pissed him off. I moved him away and set him on a far rock. He rattled furiously and curled up into strike mode. I hastily retreated down the path as far away from the serpent as possible.

Encounter results:

My Handle Animal check-successful

Rattler's Intimidation check-unsuccessful

My Wisdom Check-Failed

Time to roll my survival check, too bad I'm not acting particularly wise.

I continue down the path. My small collection of children's songs were boring me, so I switched to 1,000 bottles of beer on the wall. "1,000 bottles of beer on the wall; 1,000 bottles of BEER! Take one down, pass it around, 999 bottles of beer on the wall!"

 On and on it went. As I hiked along Pine Canyon, the trail winding back and forth down the canyon maddingly, draining all of my hopes that l was going to see the lights of Tucson again. The mountains surrounded me on every side. The darkness was deep, and the night was full of insect noises. The trail spilt off onto grassy hilltop. I checked my phone.

 It was 9:30, and I had one bar of service. I called Brandon. Somehow I had the delusion that I would be done with this hike by 9:00, and told me to pick me up then.

Brandon-(annoyed) Dude where are you

Max-(frightened) I'm still on the Pallisades trail

Brandon-I'm at the parking lot at Sabino Canyon Park, I've been chilling here for about two hours reading. 

Max-(sounding desperate) Oh shit sorry man.  This was a really bad idea and I'm really tired, I think I may just crash on the grass and wait until tomorrow to finish.

Brandon-Don't do that dude, that’s a terrible idea, just keep going.

Max-(defeated) Okay, I should be done in about 2 hours

I ventured further down the path which continued to wind downward among the mountain and continued on with my attempt to conquer the monstrous "Thousand Bottles of Beer" song.  900 bottles, 800 bottles, 700 bottles… As the path wound back and forth, I started encountering more and more grassy hilltops.  These were flatter and not as bad to walk on, but there was no trail.  The game was to start from one cairn and try to guess at a route that slightly resembled a path.  I would spend about 5-10 minutes wandering around, with a sinking feeling that I lost the path, backtracking, wandering in circles, until I would find the next cairn with relief. As this was happening, my liter of water got lower and lower, and my flashlight got dimmer.  I realized that I was in deep shit if my flashlight died.  Several times I would be walking and a bird would explode out of the grass next to me, scaring the crap out of me.  I also realized that rattlesnakes would be very hard to spot in this 18-inch grass.

At 650 bottles of beer on the wall, I stopped singing.  I was too damn tired, all singing was doing now was dehydrating and exhausting me.  The path started to straighten out and head to the east, still going downhill.  As I walked along this path I contemplated the horrible possibility that I had thought of a while back: what if this path that I was following was the wrong path, and the path that I needed to follow was miles behind me?  There was nothing much I could do about it if that was true. 

During the first part of the hike, I had fantasized about all of the things that I would do when I get back: Get a large burger and a cold drink, watch the new episode of Dexter, have a beer, etc.  However, those started to become less and less important as the hours from when I had last seen the lights of Tucson ticked by, and the fantasies started drifting towards seeing my friends, hugging my mom and dad, and telling my family that I loved them, things that I was not sure if I would ever be able to do again.  The prospect of dying was scary, but the prospect of dying on this mountain, at night, all alone from any human being was truly terrifying.  Although in the end I believe it doesn't really make a difference who was with you or wasn't with you when you die, it would be much more peaceful of an experience if those who I loved were there.

Every five minutes or so I would call out "HELLO??" I was trying to find any campers who may be nearby with water, supplies, or communication to the outside world.  My phone had been out of service for hours, and was quickly dying, and I only had about a liter of water left.  I was also trying to scare off any animals that would have liked to make a meal out of this gangly hiker.  However, no responses.  The trail led around a ledge and down the side of a dry river-bed far below.  As it continued, the river-bed got closer and closer, until it met with the path, and there, where the two met, I saw hope.

Part Four: False Hope on the Arizona Trail

I saw a gleaming trailhead in front of me where the trail seemed to split. I laughed loudly and walked briskly up to it. The dirt and grass under my feet turned to gravel when I stepped into the riverbed. The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I arrived. The sign read:

"PALLISADES TRAIL" with an arrow pointing behind me.

"ARIZONA TRAIL" with an arrow pointed to the left.

With joy, and the feeling that I might live after all, I journeyed to the left.

I'll pause for a second to tell the story of the trail that I was on. The Arizona trail is the longest trail in the state, leading from Mexico to Utah. The trail spans an impressive 817 miles, and while this seems like nothing compared to the Appalachian Trail which spans 2,200 miles, but this shit is in Arizona, where the only happy mediums that you get exist right around sunrise and sunset. Anybody crazy enough to do this would also cross over Mount Lemmon and through my current path.

The path began to wind uphill. My joy faded to mediocrity. As the path continued to rise, it began to head towards the left. This didn’t feel right, so I investigated my projected path. I took off my backpack and rummaged through it.  I found the cheap compass that my grandparents had given me along-side the flashlight for Christmas last year, and looked at it. I was veering towards the west, which was disconcerting because I should be heading east.  I wrote this off and expected the path to veer to the right at some point.

It didn’t. As I continued, the path straightened out and headed east. It was at this point that the dilemma of "should I keep going or should I go back?" started to creep through my head. If the path was behind me and I continued forward, I was just distancing myself from the proper trail. If it was in front of me and I turned back, I may not make it.

After about 10-15 minutes of this, I decided to risk it and turn back. A wave of depression engulfed me. Either way, this was going to be shitty. As I was walking back, I take another gulp of water. I only have about 1-2 mouthfuls left, and at least another 3 miles ahead of me. This wasn't good.

I finally reach the trailhead, and saw what I didn't see before: and arrow for the Arizona trail heading in the opposite direction. I felt slightly elated, and I trudged down the path. This part of the hike was fairly pleasant (all things considered). The trail was smooth and flat, composed of gravel. I checked the compass again, and it showed that I was headed east.  Excellent. 

 I was surrounded by several different types of desert trees which created a nice canopy over the starry sky. Because of the heavy lighting regulations due to the astronomical observatories located at the top of Mt. Lemmon, the sky was alight with many hidden constellations. Too bad I'm too exhausted and dehydrated to enjoy it. I took another gulp of my water and looked sadly at the single mouthful left in the bottle. I might have known where I was, but if I didn't find water soon then I was in some serious shit.

Part Five: As You Receive, So Shall You Give

The trailhead appeared out of the darkness. My elation returned, but it was dulled by an urgent sense of dehydration. I continued on. By this point in the hike every part of my body ached. This was probably due to the dehydration just as much as the hike, as my body scoured my muscles for any source of water.

 I studied the trailhead carefully to make sure that I didn't make the same mistake as before. I followed the arrow that pointed towards the path "Sabino Canyon." I only had 2.5 miles to go, but I wouldn't be able to make it with this little water.

I had another problem on my hands. Before I left, I told my mom that if she hadn't heard from me by midnight to call the park rangers. I thought that there was no way this would last more than 4 hours. However here I was at 11:50, out of cell phone range and desperately dehydrated.

After 10-15 minutes of the Sabino Canyon trail, I heard a slight trickling noise. WATER! I stop dead and listen. It was coming from the North. I walked down a steep slope to the stream below. I finished the last bit of water, filled my water bottle, and chugged. It was delicious. I expected the water to taste muddy, but it tasted normal, only with a slightly sweet aftertaste. Screw soda, coffee, energy drinks, or beer.  In times of moderate to severe hydration, you are the only one for me, I filled the water-bottle back up to the top.

I continued walking, with only one mission in mind: get to an area with cell service. I was so very tired, but I had a goal to fulfill. The trail let out onto a canyon ridge. The path was rather narrow, with a steep drop-off to the right that led to the canyon. I could tell that it was a far drop, but I couldn't tell how far. As I continued to walk, I began to feel sick. I'm a city boy, and apparently my pampered stomach wasn't ready for the unfiltered nature of that creek water.

I staggered on for a couple more minutes, trying to fight back the nausea that would empty my stomach of the water I badly needed. It was a losing battle. I knelt down and violently deposed of the water from the creek of pain. I sat there exhausted for about five minutes, my entire body had become a horrible desolation. I struggled to my feet and continued on. I was close and seemingly out of danger, so I really didn't want to meet a rescue party on my way.

The next hour was slow. It was a mix of me staggering, coming danger close to the deadly drop-off on the right while my stomach and legs made me feel like I was going to die. Every five minutes I would stop and rest for a minute as I tried to send out a text to my mom and Brandon. It would fail, and I would rest for a minute before willing myself to stumble to my feet and stagger down the path for another 5 minutes.  A battle between massive dehydration and knowing that drinking river water would just make me vomit everywhere ensued.  I took small sips every now and again, and the pain in my stomach would grow.

Finally, the pain won out, and I collapsed onto my knees, spewing the small amounts of liquid relief that I had taken in since my last purge.  It was painful, thanks to both my gastric acid eating away at the lining of my esophagus and whatever evil was contained in the creek water that lead to my stomach feeling like a knife was puncturing through it.  After another five minute battle of good vs. evil within my body, I felt well enough to keep going.

 At around 12:50, I finally found a spot that gave me a bar of service.  I quickly sent out the following text: "I'm OK, I'm on Sabino Canyon trail."  I feel a slight wave of relief.  At least now I would not have the humiliation of a full-fledged rescue crew being sent for my sorry ass (or so I thought).  I took another well-deserved (or so I told myself) 5 minute break, and continued my own personal war that pitted my inclination to make bad decisions with my will to survive.

After another painful hour, I saw a strange gleam ahead.  I continue towards this gleam, and my heart leaps.  THE ROAD!!!!  I felt a wave of relief pass over me, I had made it.  Somehow, in despite of my own stupidity, I had hiked around 12+ miles over the course of 8 hours, in the dark wilderness, with only a liter of water, by myself.  Unfortunately for the world, my series of very bad decisions was not punished and I lived relatively unscathed to tell the tale.  However, there was only one problem: Brandon was nowhere to be seen.

I hiked up to an area that had cell phone service and called him.

Me-Hey dude I'm at the road, can you please come and pick me up?

Brandon-No I can't dude, I can't get to the street that leads up there

Me-What do you mean

Brandon-There is a gate that is closed blocking the road, and I tried to find a way to get the car around the gate, there was no way.  You'll have to walk down the three miles to get to the park.

Me-WHAT!? FUCK! I can't make it that far dude, I'm super dehydrated, I throw up anything that hits my stomach, and I can barely walk.

Brandon-Trieu and I can meet you halfway with water

Me-I can't walk anymore dude, I'll have to call for an ambulance.

Brandon-No dude don't do that, just walk, it’s not that bad.

Me-There is no way in hell I can make it down dude, I have to.

Brandon-Uh okay dude, good luck

I dialed 9-1-1 and pressed "Send."  The phone rings and a female operator picks up-

Operator: 9-1-1 Emergency Service what is the problem

Me-I'm stuck at the end of the road on the Sabino Canyon Highway. I was stupid and went hiking at night and now am extremely dehydrated and can barely move

Operator-Okay so what do you need?

Me-What?

Operator- Do you need police, fire, ambulance?

Why the hell would I need fire? I thought to myself

Me-Ambulance please

Operator-Okay and where are you at?

Me-I'm at the end of the only road that leads from Sabino Canyon Park to the trailhead.

The call drops.  I curse and look at my phone. It was about to die, which wasn't helped by the fact that it needed to constantly look for a connection.  A minute later I get a call, it was another operator.

Rescue Operator-Hello, this is Mr. Rescue Operator from (some rescue organization). What is your location, we can't figure out the description that you gave.

Me-Sorry my call dropped, I am at the end of the road that leads from Sabino Canyon Park to the trailhead.

Rescue Operator-Still can’t find it sorry sir.

The call drops again. 

Me-FUCK

Apparently I hadn't fully escaped danger.  If I didn't get them the proper directions before my phone died, I was in seriously trouble. I get a call back.

Me-I'm sorry, I'm in an area of barely any reception and my phone is about to die.

Rescue Operator-So I can't find the road that you're talking about anywhere on the map.

Me-What!? I'm at the end of the only road that leads from Sabino Canyon park to the trailhead. I

Rescue Operator-Okay I think I've got it.

Me-Okay I need to go, my phone is going to die.

I hang up, and start heading down the trail when I get a third call. It was the original female operator.

Operator-Sir we can't find this road that you are talking about.

Me-IT'S THE ONLY ROAD THAT LEADS FROM SABINO CANYON PARK TO THE SABINO CANYON TRAILHEAD!

Yes, I was "that guy" yelling at EMS when they are trying to rescue me.

Operator-okay okay, I think I know where you are talking about, the ambulance is on its way.

My phone dies. I feel relieved, but the relief is soon cancelled out by the pain I was still in. I hobble back down to the road and sit on a bench at the trailhead. My stomach gives one final effort to wash the evil out of my body, and my neurons send signals to my stomach to commit genocide again its contents. I turn around and start dry-heaving. It was one wave of pain to remind my brain to never fire whatever electrical signals that caused me to undertake this venture again.

I recover, and remember that I had a water bottle half full of vodka in my backpack that helped me mentally endure the trip.  My urge to take even the most miniscule of risks was under severe repression, and I threw away the last of man’s favorite poison, killing any remote possibility that it could come back to bite me in the ass in any way, shape, or form (say it leaked all over the ambulance, that wouldn’t help my cause). 10 minutes go by where I reflected on my survival and took away whatever lessons from this that I could (I learned MANY things). Eventually, headlights appeared, and the ambulance approached. My brief war with Mother Nature had finally ended, me being the victor, which was weird because I felt so much like a loser. She had failed at killing me; good news for her is that if I continued this line of decision making she wouldn’t have long to wait until she could claim my life as rightfully hers.

Epilogue: The Walk of Shame

The ambulance pulled up. I figured that I better make a good impression since I was already off to a bad start. I went up and shook the drivers hand. 

Me-"Hi my name is Max, sorry about all this."

Driver-"So what seems to be the problem?"

Me-"I was stupid and hiked back from a retreat at the girl scout camp with too little water."

Driver-"So do you need to go to the hospital?"

Me-"Uh no I guess not, I just need a ride down to the park, my friends can pick me up from there."

Driver-Okay, hop in the back.

I won't lie, I was a little excited, I've never been in the back of an ambulance before. I sat on the side seat where the EMTs usually sit.

Me-Do you have any water?

EMT-Yeah grab that bottle right there, it's medically distilled.

I grab the bottle, started taking large gulps, and coughed. The water tasted like asshole. It was seriously the worst water I've ever tasted, the river water tasted like coca-cola compared to this shit. I was thirsty enough to not give a crap though, and I chugged the nasty ambulance water. It was like drinking a combination of all the shit tier beers (natty, the beast, busch, etc.) combined, but I was so dehydrated that drinking this abysmal concoction felt incredible.

The road winded and curved, and after three short miles, we were in the park. The EMTs got out and opened the door. I was surrounded by police, firefighters, and the EMTs that brought me down there. They weren't fucking around, they sent the whole shebang. At the edge of the rescue crew were Brandon and Trieu, simply shaking their heads. A police officer took down my information, then I did the walk of shame. It was despicable. I had knowingly put myself in danger and caused and took the attention of an entire assembly of rescue workers. Thinking of the good they could be doing elsewhere made me angry at myself. I got up to Brandon and Trieu.

Brandon-"You good dude?"

Me-"Yeah, let's get out of here."

We drove home in our third roommate Kevin's car and reflected about the entire experience on the way back. I promised redemption to Brandon and Trieu, and still owe them all for helping save my dumb ass that night. We got home, dropped Brandon off, and Trieu and I went to McDonalds for a survival feast. I bought him and myself an angus burger, in addition to 20 chicken McNuggets. I was ready for a meat feast after this weekend of vegetarianism. Karma decided to spit in my face: as the McDonald's lady handed Trieu the bag of food, it ripped between the car and the window, spilling all of the McNuggets out on the asphalt. She glared at Trieu, as if it was his fault this happened (when really it was probably mine), and told us that they needed to make a new batch so it would be another 10 minutes.

We got out food, went home, feasted, and watched the new episode of Dexter. The next day I could barely move I was so sore. The fallout came throughout the next week when I got told how stupid I was by several of my friends and family. They weren't wrong. They will ensure that I never live this down. When I talked to Trieu quizzing him on the details for this story, he got pissed and said "God why are you reminding me of this shameful shit." I might have sullied the family name, but at least I survived.