 Comedy: June 27, 2018 Issue [#8971] |
  Comedy
This week: Nerd Camp Edited by: Waltz Invictus  
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I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere and you know it’s really hard to hold your breath.
-Bruce Springsteen |
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This one time at Nerd Camp...
No, really. Well, that's what I'm calling it, anyway. A bunch of scientists and science-oriented people, including me, went up to a dude ranch in the Rockies.
I'd been looking forward to this trip for quite some time - the only other time I get to be around like-minded people is at brewpubs, and the clientele there isn't exactly known for understanding my quantum physics jokes. The only problem - or so I thought - was that the ranch is perched at 10,000 feet above sea level.
I have trouble breathing while driving at that elevation, so I really don't know what I was thinking planning to hike it. Come to think of it, I don't know what I was thinking planning to hike, period. Like it says in my bio, I enjoy short walks down carpeted hallways and other indoor activities. These activities don't include hiking, horseback riding, looking at rocks, stargazing, or river rafting - all of which were on the agenda.
But hey, sometimes you have to go out of your comfort zone, right? So I spent a few days in Denver, first, on the theory that I could get partially acclimated to the higher elevation by walking around at 5280 feet.
It didn't work. Denver simply has too many brewpubs. I didn't get a lot of walking in. Bit of staggering, maybe.
But I digress. The first person I met at the ranch was one of the wranglers. And she was tall. Extraordinarily tall. Like, grew up on a planet with lighter gravity tall. I gasped a "howdy" at her (apparently this is how you talk on the ranch), and realized that this would be good training for colonizing Mars. Which is probably where she was from, which explained how she could run at that elevation while I could barely put one foot in front of the other.
And then there's the sunlight. Oh, curse the daystar! With approximately 30 molecules of air between me and the radiative orb, it took about 15 seconds before I got third-degree burns on my arms and feet.
Martian Girl was telling me about the ranch. I could barely hear what with the rarefied atmosphere and all. "...no poison ivy here..." Oh good, I thought - if I got poison ivy on top of the sunburn, I'd have to throw myself off a cliff. "...or poisonous snakes..." Well, that's good too, but I'm not planning on eating any nope ropes - I'm more worried about venomous snakes.
I told you I was a nerd.
Incidentally, on the way up, I saw several people pedaling bicycles up the mountains. I do believe we've been invaded by Martians.
Lots of aspen up there. They fluttered as I stumbled by. At first I thought it was the wind, but then I realized it was actually the entire tick population of Colorado - they'd heard I'd arrived, and were jumping from branch to branch, just waiting to pounce on me.
I was wearing a t-shirt with Jeff Bridges from The Big Lebowski on the front. I figured someone would get the joke - and, indeed, someone did. "They told me it was a Dude ranch, man."
Later, we got our horse assignments. They went something like this: "Mr. Jones - you're on Blossom. Ms. Tyler, you'll be riding Buttercup. Waltz, your horse will be Nuclear Fireball..."
Now, I'd told them I'd ridden a horse before, but what I meant was that about a dozen times in my life, I've sat on a gelding while he ate clover.
I decided to skip the horseback rides.
This left me with two choices - hike, or sit in the cabin and drink beer. Much as the latter appealed to me, dammit, I went there to expose myself to the elements (well, the elements other than beer), and expose myself to the elements was what I was going to do. So I put on about two tubes of sunscreen, sunglasses, a bandana, a hat - my Panama Jack hat, as none of the cowboy hats at the ranch fit me, because of my enormous supergenius brain - several layers of clothes, light gloves, and hiking boots.
Which is when I realized that with all the clothing and sunscreen, I wasn't really exposed to the elements at all. Unless you count the mosquitoes as elements. They're probably too large to count, though. I'm pretty sure I saw someone riding one after their horse threw a shoe.
All this preparation took about an hour, and I was reminded why I'm a dedicated indoorsman: I can take an hour to prepare myself for the not-so-great outdoors... or I can get up and start working at my computer in a climate-controlled room. No hiking boots. No hat. Pants optional.
As for the hike itself, the less said the better. I followed behind a crowd of potential Martians, gasping for air all the way. About four hours later, we stopped to look at some nice rocks. "How gasp long pant pant have we wheeze been cough pant wheeze hiking?" I asked.
They looked at me. "Like, ten minutes," someone said.
I have to admit, some of the views were worth it. I even sort-of enjoyed the rafting trip down the Colorado River, even though it cost me three more tubes of sunscreen. The whole time I was on the river, though, I could feel the sun looking for a chink in my armor. Just a small opening, just enough to make me miserable. This time, however, I outsmarted it. Summer's only just begun, though - the accursed daystar will get its chance.
And as the week came to a close, I even managed to walk the 500 feet from the dining room to my cabin without dying or even pausing to catch my breath - of course, I accomplished this feat exactly 5 minutes before it was time to leave.
I'm back in the troposphere now, and I can breathe again - but hey, I'm glad I did it. I mean, without the outdoors to complain about, what would I have put in this editorial? |
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Last time, in "Summer" , I warned against going outdoors - oh, if only I'd read my own editorial!
Quick-Quill  : Summer-A young German immigrant to our country was feeling the heat in the Los Angeles area. My mother told him to get a block of ice, put it in a shallow bucket and set a fan to blow air over the ice. In the dark apt, it would cool it down for a time. On his way home from work he bought a block of ice and got on the bus. I'm sure he got many looks as the ice began to melt all over his pants. He carried it to his apartment, completely soaked, but cool I'm sure. He learned a lesson. Buy the ice closer to home.
No, the moral of this story is don't live in bleedin' Los Angeles in the summer.
Monty  : Some days the Air conditioner is great inside but the fishing is not so good.
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention the fly fishing lessons. Spoiler alert: I didn't catch any fish.
And that's it for me for June - see you next month! Until then, stay cool and...
LAUGH ON!!! |
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