“Zcon is work. It’s not a week in heaven. It’s not easy. If it ever was then you didn’t do your part and made it harder on someone else. It’s hot. You usually have to cook your own meals. It’s dirty, and you have to either go up or down hill all the time. The only flat places are the parking lot, or on top of one of the scraggy rocks that dot the creek you have to cross to get to the mountain. Nothing is thoughtless. Nothing done without effort. The water, gallons of which were drank every day, is carried in 5 gallon Jerry cans up from the creek. Mainly by Kyle. Imagine a 50 yard hike uphill on rocks and gravel. There was no pavement there.”
-Zombie Con, as described by the author to a stranger.
ZCon Day 1 (ish)
The caravan left in a timely manor. 5:30 turned into 8:15 or so.
Zombie-1 The Zombie Squad's Armored Pickup
Zombie-2 The ZS Armored van
Zombie-3 Kyle's Olive Drab F-150 pickup
Zombie-4 Toad's Red 2003 Cavalier
Kyle's truck had no headlights. We arrived past dusk, so it was only a minor problem. The van, driven by Jamoni, was missing a taillight.
*****
I sit now just before dusk by the campfire. Bratwurst for dinner. One was suspiciously pink, but I was too busy conversing with another ZSer to notice the dying fire. Camaraderie. That's why we are here.
The caravan left in a timely manor. 5:30 turned into 8:15 or so.
Zombie-1 The Zombie Squad's Armored Pickup
Zombie-2 The ZS Armored van
Zombie-3 Kyle's Olive Drab F-150 pickup
Zombie-4 Toad's Red 2003 Cavalier
Kyle's truck had no headlights. We arrived past dusk, so it was only a minor problem. The van, driven by Jamoni, was missing a taillight.
*****
I sit now just before dusk by the campfire. Bratwurst for dinner. One was suspiciously pink, but I was too busy conversing with another ZSer to notice the dying fire. Camaraderie. That's why we are here.
*****
Kyle was told numerous times about his headlights. After my svelte Cavalier gave the caravan a once over on the highway I told him of the problem. Soon after it became a running joke. My co-pilot on the trip was Jamie. He was a riot. Never a dull moment on the radios, never a silent moment in the car. A good traveling companion makes a journey go by just as fast as moving at breakneck speeds. I personally prefer the latter, because speed is a real gift from god. But given the choice between the two, I'd pick Jamie. I can always go fast, but true wit is a very rare thing. Not to mention taking the rear of one jacked-up Zombie Squad caravan does not lend itself to much speed anyway. The trip however went without incident.
Once we arrived at the cabin, we were greeted with a warm fire and Maker's Mark. I had already put my hammock up and put a glow stick on it, so I wasn't worried about sleeping. I wasn't sure what the arrangements were, but there was only one cabin, and like 20 people or so. I'm not a big fan of the "some dude slept on top of me last night" feeling. Once the Army Medics showed up the party really kicked into high gear. Doc Simon, and Tacmedic22. They immediately started serving these horrendously yummy Long Island Ice Teas made exclusively from "Military Special" jugs of booze that went for 8$ a piece. They were some pretty cool guys. We talked about war wounds, what they were going to be doing that week, and the eventful drive to Missouri. Then Kyle decided it was time for arm-wrestling. According to Martini Devil, "Arm Wrestling is the ZS version of "swordfighting."That was fun, and later on on Wednesday, it hurt. I can't remember who won, but I went undefeated with my left arm. Others arrived from Carolina, Louisiana, and a few other places.
Once we arrived at the cabin, we were greeted with a warm fire and Maker's Mark. I had already put my hammock up and put a glow stick on it, so I wasn't worried about sleeping. I wasn't sure what the arrangements were, but there was only one cabin, and like 20 people or so. I'm not a big fan of the "some dude slept on top of me last night" feeling. Once the Army Medics showed up the party really kicked into high gear. Doc Simon, and Tacmedic22. They immediately started serving these horrendously yummy Long Island Ice Teas made exclusively from "Military Special" jugs of booze that went for 8$ a piece. They were some pretty cool guys. We talked about war wounds, what they were going to be doing that week, and the eventful drive to Missouri. Then Kyle decided it was time for arm-wrestling. According to Martini Devil, "Arm Wrestling is the ZS version of "swordfighting."That was fun, and later on on Wednesday, it hurt. I can't remember who won, but I went undefeated with my left arm. Others arrived from Carolina, Louisiana, and a few other places.
I spoke with Iloveash (ZSC-001 president or commandant or queen or whatever) that night, about the close future of ZS. I found out what the plans were, what her plans were, and tried to see how I fit in. I was drunk. I fit in just fine. Some people ate. Those AZ guys, with a complete and total disregard for other people's well being in an out-of-town/touristy sort of way brought crave cases from White Castle. The bastards. I ate 3 or 4 sliders myself. I know everyone is ultimately responsible for themselves, but c'mon guys. That's just ridiculous. Someone announced it was 2:30 am. As conversations got all drunk and nerdy and overspecialized, I headed over to my hammock. My head spun, and I was tired and excited. It had been a long day. I had no idea how long the next one was going to be. I woke up on the ground at about 8 am.
Wednesday
Dry. The weather, my mouth, the fire. I am a living prune and I've got to do more physical labor than I have in months. I wander around. I eat a banana. I see faces that I might recognize but I can't remember names. Trucks are loaded. People are packed. Trucks and SUV's and one Cavalier drive a mile to the mountain proper...
The road off the highway is treacherous. Rocky, a muddy trench of old tires and tire tracks. It was hot, before 10 am, and I felt like crap. I limped my cavalier off the highway and down a 45 degree trench without it bottoming out. Off Duty Ninja's Mustang was behind my car. It made a very harsh grinding sound and left liquid on the rocks. Gundown cares not, and I was too excited to say anything. Excited in a bad way. I had heard it was between 100 yards to 1 mile from the parking area to the base camping area. Across a rocky bouldery creek, past manbath, and then up a steep, loose, gravely mountain. I'm still not sure how far it was, but it sure as hell wasn't 100 yards, or a mile. It became relative, by then end of the week. It was simply another hike to be made.
The sun is setting. 9 people are sitting around the fire, cooking or preparing meals. Fresh caught fish, a stew, rice, steak and ka-bobs. The Jersey guys showed up about 3 hours ago, and the Canadians are on route, and lost. Talk of food, cooking utensils, and methods can be heard. Nothing compared to the drunken ranting of last night, but the army guys have just started drinking again.... As I sit by the fire, chopping sounds and the slightly excited voices of almost fed bellies fill my ears. A large splinter of wood flies by my head and Evening snaps pictures with her camera. She seems in very good spirits. Especially for someone who was home for only 3 hours after spending a month in Europe. Especially for someone who came home just long enough to pack and then go camping on the side of a rocky mountain. We are a unique breed, and our women are both awesome and beautiful.
Wednesday
Dry. The weather, my mouth, the fire. I am a living prune and I've got to do more physical labor than I have in months. I wander around. I eat a banana. I see faces that I might recognize but I can't remember names. Trucks are loaded. People are packed. Trucks and SUV's and one Cavalier drive a mile to the mountain proper...
The road off the highway is treacherous. Rocky, a muddy trench of old tires and tire tracks. It was hot, before 10 am, and I felt like crap. I limped my cavalier off the highway and down a 45 degree trench without it bottoming out. Off Duty Ninja's Mustang was behind my car. It made a very harsh grinding sound and left liquid on the rocks. Gundown cares not, and I was too excited to say anything. Excited in a bad way. I had heard it was between 100 yards to 1 mile from the parking area to the base camping area. Across a rocky bouldery creek, past manbath, and then up a steep, loose, gravely mountain. I'm still not sure how far it was, but it sure as hell wasn't 100 yards, or a mile. It became relative, by then end of the week. It was simply another hike to be made.
*****
The sun is setting. 9 people are sitting around the fire, cooking or preparing meals. Fresh caught fish, a stew, rice, steak and ka-bobs. The Jersey guys showed up about 3 hours ago, and the Canadians are on route, and lost. Talk of food, cooking utensils, and methods can be heard. Nothing compared to the drunken ranting of last night, but the army guys have just started drinking again.... As I sit by the fire, chopping sounds and the slightly excited voices of almost fed bellies fill my ears. A large splinter of wood flies by my head and Evening snaps pictures with her camera. She seems in very good spirits. Especially for someone who was home for only 3 hours after spending a month in Europe. Especially for someone who came home just long enough to pack and then go camping on the side of a rocky mountain. We are a unique breed, and our women are both awesome and beautiful.
*****
The first trip up the mountain sucked. The second was worse. By the beginning of the third I was doing mental triage on my supplies but I left the cooler for the last. I was near heat exhaustion and total dehydration. I drank a bottle of water or Gatorade between each trip. It was rough going, and technically it was still day one. I had almost begun to doubt myself when someone dumped their gear into the creek. Jamoni looked up at my ravaged face with worry. He looked fine, the jerk. Why didn't he carry my stuff as well? I only chided myself as I helped the other guy pick up his gear. He looked as bad as I felt. Two trips to go. As soon as I got the cooler up I busted out a big bottle of water and a sandwich. I was almost too tired to chew. But the white bread was chock full of carbs, and after half an hour I was ready to make my last trip. Luckily, I found my last pack at the bottom of the mountain next to someone else's. Thanks! I grabbed my backpack and the other bag and headed back up the mountain, sans tricky creek crossing. My spirits were boosted significantly. I went up to my hammock to take a nap, and in the course of about an hour or so had to re-tie the ropes 6 times to keep my butt off of the ground. After about another half hour, I felt better. I drank some water, and then wandered around. There were a lot of hammocks. All different colors and sizes. Someone was even smart enough to put a supply hammock under their Hennessey. As we were camping on a mountain that is claimed to have a thirty or so degree angle it is very wise to choose a hammock over a tent. With a hammock you wake in the morning refreshed and revitalized, not in the corner of a cheap nylon enclosure with a jagged rock in your back and a crick in your neck. I meeted and greeted some more, and help set up the movie screen. My supply tent was right next to the ZS supply tent.
(Yes, I brought a rock up the mountain. It is a testament to my tenacious stupidity and poor painting skills. I used water-based paint, so next year I'll probably have to repaint it. The rock, however, is still there.)
*****
After dinner was tick-checking time. The heat made it neigh impossible to be in a tent for more than a few miserable seconds at a time. After there was a body count, and no living human casualties, movie night started. This wasn’t a special night, nighttime was just the time to unwind, drink some more, and watch movies on an 8 foot screen with a kickass P.A. system. The first movie was “Plane Dead” followed by “The Quick and the Undead.” The former was a “Snakes On A Plane” knockoff, and the latter was some sort of zombie western that taught us that you could fight off being a zombie if you “tried hard enough...”
The air was thick with camaraderie and Doc Simon’s drinks. Everyone reveled in the warmth of the others in this strange group. Many a joke was cracked at the movies’ expense. Some were drunker than others, and many not at all. But we were all on the same level. Turn in was early, and a days worth of humping gear finally took it’s toll.
*****
(Yes, I brought a rock up the mountain. It is a testament to my tenacious stupidity and poor painting skills. I used water-based paint, so next year I'll probably have to repaint it. The rock, however, is still there.)
*****
Another fire has been started. People eat. Will and Jen didn’t like their Ka-bobs. Dimmie cooks a “veggie packet” which is vegetables wrapped in aluminum foil with various spices and oil on them. There is talk of the night’s zombie movies. Another straggler shows up, a female from Saint Louis. I grab a beer as I finish the day’s journal. It’s the end of day 1, sorta, and it’s getting too dark to write. I’m pretty sure I have my hammock situated, but we’ll see. I’m excited to watch zombie movies with my fellow Squad members, and it’s getting too dark to write anyway. Was it worth it? All the pain, the anguish, the torture? So far, yes. Plus, tomorrow I don’t have to carry a bunch of crap up the hill. ( I hope!)
“The only easy day was yesterday.”
-ZS forum signature
*****After dinner was tick-checking time. The heat made it neigh impossible to be in a tent for more than a few miserable seconds at a time. After there was a body count, and no living human casualties, movie night started. This wasn’t a special night, nighttime was just the time to unwind, drink some more, and watch movies on an 8 foot screen with a kickass P.A. system. The first movie was “Plane Dead” followed by “The Quick and the Undead.” The former was a “Snakes On A Plane” knockoff, and the latter was some sort of zombie western that taught us that you could fight off being a zombie if you “tried hard enough...”
The air was thick with camaraderie and Doc Simon’s drinks. Everyone reveled in the warmth of the others in this strange group. Many a joke was cracked at the movies’ expense. Some were drunker than others, and many not at all. But we were all on the same level. Turn in was early, and a days worth of humping gear finally took it’s toll.
*****
Manbath-The Legend
I was up the mountain sharpening my KA-BAR and avoiding the heat of the mid day sun. Cries of “CHUG!” or “JUGGS” or something echo up to me and the 3 other at “camp.” The jovial conversations float around like the 30 or so people in manbath. Drinking, Smoking, Jumping and enjoying themselves after a long day of seminars, work, and whatever was needed to be done. With the exception of the many ZS tattoos this could be any bunch of rowdy folks. It’s sunset, and you can feel the tension and levity fade with the heat. Fat, Skinny, old, young, men and women. All victims of the cold spring water.
At the bottom of the mountain that has no name, there is a waterfall. Below that waterfall is a pit of water about the size of a small swimming pool where hundreds of years of spring water have eroded the earth. It is dark. It is deep. It is cold. It’s filled with leaches, fish, a snake, and occasionally, about one week a year, a bunch of mad zombie hunters. They use it to bathe. They use it for drinking water. They use it for recreational games of chicken. They use it to stay cool. It is a dirty pit in the earth at the bottom of a hellish mountain called manbath. It is a legend in and of itself.
*****
I was up the mountain sharpening my KA-BAR and avoiding the heat of the mid day sun. Cries of “CHUG!” or “JUGGS” or something echo up to me and the 3 other at “camp.” The jovial conversations float around like the 30 or so people in manbath. Drinking, Smoking, Jumping and enjoying themselves after a long day of seminars, work, and whatever was needed to be done. With the exception of the many ZS tattoos this could be any bunch of rowdy folks. It’s sunset, and you can feel the tension and levity fade with the heat. Fat, Skinny, old, young, men and women. All victims of the cold spring water.
At the bottom of the mountain that has no name, there is a waterfall. Below that waterfall is a pit of water about the size of a small swimming pool where hundreds of years of spring water have eroded the earth. It is dark. It is deep. It is cold. It’s filled with leaches, fish, a snake, and occasionally, about one week a year, a bunch of mad zombie hunters. They use it to bathe. They use it for drinking water. They use it for recreational games of chicken. They use it to stay cool. It is a dirty pit in the earth at the bottom of a hellish mountain called manbath. It is a legend in and of itself.
*****
THURSDAY
Morning. Hot coffee on the fire. Bacon, eggs, potatoes. Veggies, for Dimmie, I supposed. I slept in late. It was seminar day, though. No time for dawdling.
The first seminar was hosted by Ollie and Tom. It was a brief overview of HAM radio. They talked about etiquette, procedure, and history. Tom told us how HAM’s stopped a Russian revolution, and Ollie explained how HAM radios helped post-Katrina New Orleans in order. Talk about repeaters, Hand-held transceivers, and world-wide HAM competitions. There was far too much information, but as long as it helped get some people interested, they did their job. And they did too! HAM radio is supported by the federal communications commission (FCC) and will probably be the only realistic form of long distance communication in the PAW. (Post Apocalyptic Warzone)
Morning. Hot coffee on the fire. Bacon, eggs, potatoes. Veggies, for Dimmie, I supposed. I slept in late. It was seminar day, though. No time for dawdling.
The first seminar was hosted by Ollie and Tom. It was a brief overview of HAM radio. They talked about etiquette, procedure, and history. Tom told us how HAM’s stopped a Russian revolution, and Ollie explained how HAM radios helped post-Katrina New Orleans in order. Talk about repeaters, Hand-held transceivers, and world-wide HAM competitions. There was far too much information, but as long as it helped get some people interested, they did their job. And they did too! HAM radio is supported by the federal communications commission (FCC) and will probably be the only realistic form of long distance communication in the PAW. (Post Apocalyptic Warzone)
Next was the orienteering seminar. It was pretty informative, and in the defense of the two guys running it, they were using someone else’s material. They talked about a lot of complicated stuff that I don’t remember, and it is my own personal failure that I lost the notes that were given to me.
Next was lunch, in the form of cook-in-the-can soup for me, and M.R.E.’s for Gundown and Martini Devil. Lunch was followed by an in-depth look at combat first aid techniques by Doc Simon and Tacmedic22, with Gunny as the inflatable CPR dummy. A forewarning from both the medics and Will as to how we were never to use any of the techniques they showed us on an actual person because we were not being “trained” but was simply a demonstration. It was really more of an advanced first aid class (read: one hour overview) where they talked about the stabilization of semi-serious wounds, gunshot wounds, and thoracic cavity basics. They also talked about splints and truncates. 2 basic rules:1. If it went in, leave it in. 2. If it came out, leave it out. Once a wound is bandaged, it stays bandaged.
*****
*****
Next was lunch, in the form of cook-in-the-can soup for me, and M.R.E.’s for Gundown and Martini Devil. Lunch was followed by an in-depth look at combat first aid techniques by Doc Simon and Tacmedic22, with Gunny as the inflatable CPR dummy. A forewarning from both the medics and Will as to how we were never to use any of the techniques they showed us on an actual person because we were not being “trained” but was simply a demonstration. It was really more of an advanced first aid class (read: one hour overview) where they talked about the stabilization of semi-serious wounds, gunshot wounds, and thoracic cavity basics. They also talked about splints and truncates. 2 basic rules:1. If it went in, leave it in. 2. If it came out, leave it out. Once a wound is bandaged, it stays bandaged.
“Remember kids, if you stop at an accident and try to help and say you learned it at Zombie Squad, you will be sued.”
-William Spencer, Zombie Squad Administration
-William Spencer, Zombie Squad Administration
*****
After first aid there was some confusion and more eating as noone knew where was the best place to hold the self defense seminar. It was a big mountain with no flat ground. It was decided that it would be across the creek where the first aid seminar took place. I was hungry, and didn’t want to make the walk across the creek (again) so I ate, rested, and hydrated. There were, however, glowing reports about the seminar.
*****
I’m sitting at manbath. I’m not swimming (duh) But Off Duty Ninja has brought much beer to the approval of ZS. Much to my personal dismay, zXzGrifterzXz just pulled down Gundown’s pants thus third-party mooning me. Shoes are suggested for manbath. More beer is wanted, and I consider the 30 pack in my car. But as Dr. Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, “ They were thirsty, but my penchant for the hops was very strong as well.” Not to mention that there were only 2 beers apiece, not including myself. I’m hiking down from forty yards uphill, and I have just taken a bunch of pictures of manbath. There has to be an easier way of doing this. Screw it, this is Zombie Con.
“Rocks hurt.” says Gundown. “It’s pretty cool that you’re, you know, writing about all this.”
He then knocks over my beer and pisses on my hat :)
“Rocks hurt.” says Gundown. “It’s pretty cool that you’re, you know, writing about all this.”
He then knocks over my beer and pisses on my hat :)
*****
After the self-defense seminar (a Hebrew national hotdog, seven gallons of water and 2 beers for me) was Flintknapping: How to make a prison shiv. Kat and Dan hosted this seminar. Kat gave a good bit of history, and Dan re-created the techniques. Kat really knew a lot about flintknapping and Dan had really big gloves. It was cool, but it was also very late in the day and everyone was hot/manbath ready.My interest waned a bit, but I will try very hard to remember what I was shown. After the seminar everyone was invited to try it. I declined in favor of beer.*****
*****
After a breakfast of anger, H2O, and a Mountain Dew the caravan headed to the cabin to get the guns. It was range day, and it was FUN! And HOT! And SAFE! We stopped at Walmart for some reason and I got a pint of milk and a triple decker ham sandwich for 2.90. Not bad. The caravan headed out, fifteen cars deep. Half of us headed out in the wrong direction. As an expert in getting lost, I headed up the back eight with expert turn around moves. An hour later, we were at the range. A few minutes of “don’t screw around” talk and the weapons were unpacked. Aks, AR-15s, glocks, Kel Tecs, and a few ancient arms we there. All models of shotguns, pistols, and rifles stacked around me. Kat had a PLR-16 which was a “pistol” that shot bullets longer than my thumb. Jamoni set up a bunch of cardboard cutouts for a shooting competition, while Trebor set up a kind of a “introduction to firearms” seminar. I can’t wait to compete next year.
Fire erupted all around me. Electricheadzero brandished his .45 and looked so cool blasting away. I think that gun had something against me because ever spent shell came right at me! I mainly watched the shooting match, because most of the targets were too far away for me to see. Bear in mind that every minute or so of the day was broken up by a 3 round burst from Gundown’s AK-47. It was LOUD. There was a trap-shooting area where Gunny was giving out free lessons. I unfortunately didn’t make it over there. Twords the end I was hungry again, so I busted out a Mainstay Lifeboat Ration. It tasted likelemon flavored sawdust and sand. A couple people really liked it, but most everyone declined. I sat down and took a nap, had some weird dreams and then helped Jen clean up the spent brass. We were the only 2 non-shooters (allegedly) so it was kind of weak that we had to do all the cleanup :( Then we left.
*****
I'm at home now. Sitting at my computer, trying to finish up as I get ready to head out to play disc golf. Already I struggle to remember exact details. It has only been a few days since I got home, and I'm beginning to lose everything. I'm back to my normal, boring life. There is no fun to be had here. Just work. Write, clean gear, figure out what to do with stuff. No more surviving. As much as it hurt to climb the mountain, over and over again, I have a sort of contempt for the stairs in my house. Days ago, when it was no problem or even a thought to go out of my way to help someone. Now, I am surrounded by strangers. People that look at me like "what does he want" when I try to help. There is a gas station at every corner. And 3 restruants within walking distance of that. And a Grocery store between each. 50 strangers unite to form a clan, and then a squad. And now, I am alone in a world full of convienince (sp?) with 100,000 strangers beside me. There is always Wintergedden. And Zcon next year. Not to mention all of the local ZS events. I am very fortunate to live where I live. Half of the people that were on the mountain last week won't have any more ZS fun. Not till next year. But we are growing. Every month more and more people find the website. More people pay the measley 15 bucks to join an organization dedicated to helping people and having fun. I can't think of a better group of people to be around. I can't think of a better way to spend my vacation.
It’s sunset now. The medics, a few board members, and my lucky ass sit atop the mountain watching the sunset. We talk HAM, smoke cigars, and drink Glenlivet Scotch and sake. We eat chips and homemade jerky. This actually Ollie’s camp, which I have named Camp Cool. It’s the best place to get a HAM signal. Manbath has been renamed Clambath since only females were left. I’m hot, a little sunburnt, and like I told Jen, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.
FRIDAY
Range day. ZS goes postal. I was woken up by a megaphone telling me the shooting range caravan left in one hour and fifteen minutes. My head hurt. I noticed a decent sized cut in my middle finger. Flicking an ant off my hammock, I discovered it still worked. Each of my knees, as well as my shins and calves down to my boot tops were shredded.
“Great,” I thought. “I’m 10 years old again.” I had drank 2 bottles of sake’ the night before. Or one and a half. I couldn’t remember what had happened to the second bottle after a while. I was on the scary side of the fire pit. The one that had nothing but pitch black, jagged rock, and a fifty foot drop to the bottom of the cliff. I was drunk and scaring the bejeesus out of everyone around the fire. And I was loving every second of it. Then I teetered. Sense took hold of me (and an unnamed ZS member) and I pitched toward the fire. The fire surrounded by jagged rocks. I lived, of course. After that Kyle and I laid back on the rocks further up the mountain. He said we couldn’t go five minutes without seeing a plane or a satellite, the sky was so congested. I saw a shooting star. A couple of minutes later Kyle pointed out a satellite but I couldn’t see it. Bed time...
Range day. ZS goes postal. I was woken up by a megaphone telling me the shooting range caravan left in one hour and fifteen minutes. My head hurt. I noticed a decent sized cut in my middle finger. Flicking an ant off my hammock, I discovered it still worked. Each of my knees, as well as my shins and calves down to my boot tops were shredded.
“Great,” I thought. “I’m 10 years old again.” I had drank 2 bottles of sake’ the night before. Or one and a half. I couldn’t remember what had happened to the second bottle after a while. I was on the scary side of the fire pit. The one that had nothing but pitch black, jagged rock, and a fifty foot drop to the bottom of the cliff. I was drunk and scaring the bejeesus out of everyone around the fire. And I was loving every second of it. Then I teetered. Sense took hold of me (and an unnamed ZS member) and I pitched toward the fire. The fire surrounded by jagged rocks. I lived, of course. After that Kyle and I laid back on the rocks further up the mountain. He said we couldn’t go five minutes without seeing a plane or a satellite, the sky was so congested. I saw a shooting star. A couple of minutes later Kyle pointed out a satellite but I couldn’t see it. Bed time...
*****
We interrupt this joyous Friday evening in manbath to announce Will slipped and fell and twisted his ankle. Doc Simon and Tacmedic22 were up and out of manbath as quickly as I was on the scene. A short field assessment and a little manning up from Will’s skinny ass self and everything seems okay...Other than that manbath is manbath.
*****
After a breakfast of anger, H2O, and a Mountain Dew the caravan headed to the cabin to get the guns. It was range day, and it was FUN! And HOT! And SAFE! We stopped at Walmart for some reason and I got a pint of milk and a triple decker ham sandwich for 2.90. Not bad. The caravan headed out, fifteen cars deep. Half of us headed out in the wrong direction. As an expert in getting lost, I headed up the back eight with expert turn around moves. An hour later, we were at the range. A few minutes of “don’t screw around” talk and the weapons were unpacked. Aks, AR-15s, glocks, Kel Tecs, and a few ancient arms we there. All models of shotguns, pistols, and rifles stacked around me. Kat had a PLR-16 which was a “pistol” that shot bullets longer than my thumb. Jamoni set up a bunch of cardboard cutouts for a shooting competition, while Trebor set up a kind of a “introduction to firearms” seminar. I can’t wait to compete next year.
Fire erupted all around me. Electricheadzero brandished his .45 and looked so cool blasting away. I think that gun had something against me because ever spent shell came right at me! I mainly watched the shooting match, because most of the targets were too far away for me to see. Bear in mind that every minute or so of the day was broken up by a 3 round burst from Gundown’s AK-47. It was LOUD. There was a trap-shooting area where Gunny was giving out free lessons. I unfortunately didn’t make it over there. Twords the end I was hungry again, so I busted out a Mainstay Lifeboat Ration. It tasted likelemon flavored sawdust and sand. A couple people really liked it, but most everyone declined. I sat down and took a nap, had some weird dreams and then helped Jen clean up the spent brass. We were the only 2 non-shooters (allegedly) so it was kind of weak that we had to do all the cleanup :( Then we left.
*****
Tacmedic22 Stands atop the rocks above manbath. The very rocks will slipped on less than an hour ago. Will is in manbath now. Brady has found some peanut butter cups, and is tossing them to the ZS, who are barking like seals at the zoo. Will points to me, as I write, and I give him a thumbs up. It’s weird, being the journalist. It creates a sort of space. Distancing myself from the end of the day fun so I can write down what as happened. I’m never treated as an outsider, though. Of course not. Hunter Thompson may have envisioned himself as a Hell’s Angel, but I AM ZS.
*****
As I wrote the last section, Ollie came down from the mountain. He had a thick leather glove on, a titanium spork, and a dead Black Widow. It seemed that he had been visited by the spider daily at his camp )a bedroll and a tarp) on top of the mountain and awoke to find it dead. He carried it all the way down the mountain to scare the crap outta someone. Way cool...
*****
While it was still cool, I slipped into my supply tent and changed into my swim trunks and a loud, Hawaiian shirt. I grabbed a bottle of rum, and headed to my car where my flask was. I was told several times that glass is not allowed on the river. That's why I brought the flask. Will lent it to me. If I had wanted, I could have smuggled it pretty easily into the canoe, but the risk of losing an entire bottle of rum due to capsizing was not worth it. The flask stayed on my person the entire time.
I elected to ride with Gunny in his SUV rather than drive this time. It was partially due to the fact that gas prices continue to increase, not to mention that his truck is huge and comfortable and my car was not. I also wanted to be around more people. The ride to the range was boring. Gunny's truck was designated "Shotgun One" right along side of the medic's truck "Band-aid One." The medical term for a Band-Aid in the military is a self-adhesive bandage. Since "Band-aid" is a trademarked term, and the military gets their bandages from another source, it is copyright infringement. I was constantly perplexed to the reference "Band-aid One" but it made sense, if one didn't look too deeply into it.
The caravan leaves for Wal-Mart to regroup and resupply. After about half an hour of waiting we are handed M.R.E.'s for lunch and sent on our way. 5 deep in the SUV we discuss nature, what each other does for a living, and roadside attractions. We pass the tallest mountain in Missouri http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taum_Sauk_Mountain and an elementary school that resembles 3 breasts. About an hour later, we arrive at the canoe lodge, the "Rat's Nest" home to River Rat Canoe Rentals. They also boasted open top kayaks. We brought 4 regular kayaks. After half an hour shooting tiny water pistols at each other we were cramed like sardines into the bus. Many standing, and Will left in the wheel well, our spirits were high as the driver, "Mike" lurched the overloaded bus through the gears. At one point he even stalled out, smashing all of the standers (myself included) into each other, as there were no handles to hold onto.
At the launch site, there are scarcely few life jackets. Plenty of trash bags to go around, however. I throw my M.R.E. and canteen into the canoe and head to the front, while Jamoni took up the steering in the back. I've only ever been in the back of a canoe so I did a pretty horrendous job, but we made it anyway. The first few minutes of the trip were a mass of chaos as canoe's smashed into each other like NASCAR and people vied for first place. The medics and someone else flipped within the first ten minutes or so. Shouting and grinding metal were prevalent. ZS abandoned their puny water pistols for paddles and hands. It was chaos. Luckily no one was hurt. The river was crowded with idiots in these giant inflatable rafts that simply stopped higgeldy piggeldy wherever they wanted and blocked entire passages. Next year Jamoni and I are bringing giant knitting needless and extra Duct tape. Usually in the front, but sometimes in the middle Jamoni and I navigated/drug our canoe down the river. Whenever some had too much trouble navigating a stump or a turn, we simply warned them and then crashed past. It was great fun. At least it was until the Canadians took out their flag.
A special note from Brady or Tacmedic22 as he's known on the forum: Don't say Roger Wilco at the end of a radio transmission. It's like saying "Yes, yes I will comply." Roger means "Yes" and Wilco means "Yes I will comply." It really bugs the crap outta him. Or, do say it. But then he'll stop transmitting and the rest of the ride will be boring.
*crackle*
"Hey Gunny?"
"Yeah, Doc?"
"I spy something green."
"Brady's gonorrhea?"
"...roger that..."
The first time I spotted the giant Canadian flag, Horatio was dragging it out of the river. He was shouting something about Kyle's pirate flag and how it was his as well. We were in a relatively busy section of the river, having just navigated a vicious tree trunk. It wasn't lond after me that a bleach blond bimbo with way more body fat than her bikini could support started shouting.
"What the F--k is that?" She slurred.
"It looks like a flag" I retorted. I was in a great mood. We were traveling well, having passed the majority of the group in a well timed maneuver through a group of inner tubers. I was not in the mood for dissention. Least of all was I going to listen to criticism from a drunken whore. She, however, had different plans. And by plans I mean she was a drunken whore.
"I know it's a flag. What the F--k? This isn't canadia!" (pronounced ca-nay-dee-uh)
"I know hon, we're in Missouri. Sucks huh?"
"They can't do that! This is America! Mother F--kers..."
"It's a free country," Jamoni said as he gave her boyfriend the "control your woman" look. She muttered some other things as we passed, in case we needed to aid our brothers from the North. Everything calmed down after that. We mused about our "free" country, where Canadian's can fight and die in our wars, but the river is off limits. And also about the 20 or so canoes full of drunk ZS'ers right behind us in case anything did happen.
After that incident, there were a few more collisions, and our canoe made it almost to the end without being tipped until we got a little too rowdy with someone which resulted in me doing an unplanned back flip. I can't recall exactly who they were, but they had very white chests. Be on the look out, they might still be on the river.
At the end of the river, because no one really wanted to leave, we ended up lashing about 10 canoes together and finishing off all the beer and rum. Then en masse we headed down river at the other Squad members who had so helpfully turned in their canoes already and were playing in the water. We crashed into them like the Persians in Thermopylae vs. the 300 Spartans but with more blood and screaming. A while later the parts were reattached. We had been waiting for an eternity on the shore when I believe what has been dubbed "Beaver Barge" came by. It seemed that 3 of our canoes had taken an offshoot that Jamoni talked me out of and ended up dragging their canoes most of the way back. Two of the canoes had all females, and one was Gundown and Off Duty Ninja. That's just how they roll. Packed sardines once again, as Will tried to talk Kyle into buying a ZS bus we saw a very off-roaded Jeep Cherokee. These dumass kids had managed to get their truck stuck in almost as bad a spot as I ever had. The response from the buss driver? "Get out of the way!"
The ride back was very quiet and docile. Erik and I discussed stuff as Gunny woo'd (sp?) Julie with amazing tales of how pigs become wild pigs and Ostrich Jerky. We stopped at a "GAS" mart for snacks and fuel, and some crazy hick tried to sell Skip a meteorite. We could have used it to flint knap spears for the hoosiers on the river, but it probably had a "Space Peanut" or two.
The evening was pretty docile. The ZS board members made us dinner of dogs, brats, burgers and veggie pattys. They had made breakfast burritos on the fire as well, which were very good but not the best float food. That would have been beer. Instead of watching some loud crazy zombie movies like every other night, we watched "Feast" which featured Henry Rollins and some other bad actors as well. It was a riot though. By the time it was over, most everyone was either by the fire or passed out in their tents. It was a long, hot day on the river. I had humped all but one load of my gear down to my car that night, so I could help carry more ZS stuff down than I had up. This was probably one of my best moves, and I highly suggest it to anyone else next year. I had emptied out my cooler except for a few smuggled Canadian cokes and a small bottle of Vodka. Most of the very dirty gear (clothes, river shoes, shovel, etc.) went in there. the rest was stuffed in a duffel or my spare backpack. Tom kept heckling me to drink beer with him in manbath as I sherpa'd my gear to the car. By Saturday, at Zombie Con, a half naked drunk man in a snake infested waterfall pit telling you to come down and get drunk with him doesn't sound odd. It's not even funny. It's what we did for fun.
As I wrote the last section, Ollie came down from the mountain. He had a thick leather glove on, a titanium spork, and a dead Black Widow. It seemed that he had been visited by the spider daily at his camp )a bedroll and a tarp) on top of the mountain and awoke to find it dead. He carried it all the way down the mountain to scare the crap outta someone. Way cool...
*****
Manbath is winding down/ Will stands. He seems okay. There is a 1-2-3 count as everyone pees. A canadian throws beers from the cliff into manbath. They don’t float. Doc Simon dives down, grabs one, and returns. It’s a Canadian Pepsi.
“What the F–K?!!” he exclaims and and throws it at the cliff. It explodes, showering everyone with warm soda. Brady sees me not “bathing.” He gives me the “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” look.
“Someone has to keep a record!” I yell as he jumps in. In truth, I am very jealous not to be in manbath. But this is important as well, and I’ll be there next year. Another chicken fight ensues, another evening begins.
“What the F–K?!!” he exclaims and and throws it at the cliff. It explodes, showering everyone with warm soda. Brady sees me not “bathing.” He gives me the “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot” look.
“Someone has to keep a record!” I yell as he jumps in. In truth, I am very jealous not to be in manbath. But this is important as well, and I’ll be there next year. Another chicken fight ensues, another evening begins.
SATURDAY
It's Canoe Trip Day. Not a "Float Trip" because that's not Zombie Squad's style. A treacherous, curvy, low river known as the Black River has been chosen. I awoke before the bullhorn sounded in fairly good spirits, as last day anxiety started to set in. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot. There was still a journey ahead of us. It was difficult to avoid the inevitable, however.While it was still cool, I slipped into my supply tent and changed into my swim trunks and a loud, Hawaiian shirt. I grabbed a bottle of rum, and headed to my car where my flask was. I was told several times that glass is not allowed on the river. That's why I brought the flask. Will lent it to me. If I had wanted, I could have smuggled it pretty easily into the canoe, but the risk of losing an entire bottle of rum due to capsizing was not worth it. The flask stayed on my person the entire time.
I elected to ride with Gunny in his SUV rather than drive this time. It was partially due to the fact that gas prices continue to increase, not to mention that his truck is huge and comfortable and my car was not. I also wanted to be around more people. The ride to the range was boring. Gunny's truck was designated "Shotgun One" right along side of the medic's truck "Band-aid One." The medical term for a Band-Aid in the military is a self-adhesive bandage. Since "Band-aid" is a trademarked term, and the military gets their bandages from another source, it is copyright infringement. I was constantly perplexed to the reference "Band-aid One" but it made sense, if one didn't look too deeply into it.
The caravan leaves for Wal-Mart to regroup and resupply. After about half an hour of waiting we are handed M.R.E.'s for lunch and sent on our way. 5 deep in the SUV we discuss nature, what each other does for a living, and roadside attractions. We pass the tallest mountain in Missouri http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taum_Sauk_Mountain and an elementary school that resembles 3 breasts. About an hour later, we arrive at the canoe lodge, the "Rat's Nest" home to River Rat Canoe Rentals. They also boasted open top kayaks. We brought 4 regular kayaks. After half an hour shooting tiny water pistols at each other we were cramed like sardines into the bus. Many standing, and Will left in the wheel well, our spirits were high as the driver, "Mike" lurched the overloaded bus through the gears. At one point he even stalled out, smashing all of the standers (myself included) into each other, as there were no handles to hold onto.
At the launch site, there are scarcely few life jackets. Plenty of trash bags to go around, however. I throw my M.R.E. and canteen into the canoe and head to the front, while Jamoni took up the steering in the back. I've only ever been in the back of a canoe so I did a pretty horrendous job, but we made it anyway. The first few minutes of the trip were a mass of chaos as canoe's smashed into each other like NASCAR and people vied for first place. The medics and someone else flipped within the first ten minutes or so. Shouting and grinding metal were prevalent. ZS abandoned their puny water pistols for paddles and hands. It was chaos. Luckily no one was hurt. The river was crowded with idiots in these giant inflatable rafts that simply stopped higgeldy piggeldy wherever they wanted and blocked entire passages. Next year Jamoni and I are bringing giant knitting needless and extra Duct tape. Usually in the front, but sometimes in the middle Jamoni and I navigated/drug our canoe down the river. Whenever some had too much trouble navigating a stump or a turn, we simply warned them and then crashed past. It was great fun. At least it was until the Canadians took out their flag.
*****
A special note from Brady or Tacmedic22 as he's known on the forum: Don't say Roger Wilco at the end of a radio transmission. It's like saying "Yes, yes I will comply." Roger means "Yes" and Wilco means "Yes I will comply." It really bugs the crap outta him. Or, do say it. But then he'll stop transmitting and the rest of the ride will be boring.
*crackle*
"Hey Gunny?"
"Yeah, Doc?"
"I spy something green."
"Brady's gonorrhea?"
"...roger that..."
*****
The first time I spotted the giant Canadian flag, Horatio was dragging it out of the river. He was shouting something about Kyle's pirate flag and how it was his as well. We were in a relatively busy section of the river, having just navigated a vicious tree trunk. It wasn't lond after me that a bleach blond bimbo with way more body fat than her bikini could support started shouting.
"What the F--k is that?" She slurred.
"It looks like a flag" I retorted. I was in a great mood. We were traveling well, having passed the majority of the group in a well timed maneuver through a group of inner tubers. I was not in the mood for dissention. Least of all was I going to listen to criticism from a drunken whore. She, however, had different plans. And by plans I mean she was a drunken whore.
"I know it's a flag. What the F--k? This isn't canadia!" (pronounced ca-nay-dee-uh)
"I know hon, we're in Missouri. Sucks huh?"
"They can't do that! This is America! Mother F--kers..."
"It's a free country," Jamoni said as he gave her boyfriend the "control your woman" look. She muttered some other things as we passed, in case we needed to aid our brothers from the North. Everything calmed down after that. We mused about our "free" country, where Canadian's can fight and die in our wars, but the river is off limits. And also about the 20 or so canoes full of drunk ZS'ers right behind us in case anything did happen.
After that incident, there were a few more collisions, and our canoe made it almost to the end without being tipped until we got a little too rowdy with someone which resulted in me doing an unplanned back flip. I can't recall exactly who they were, but they had very white chests. Be on the look out, they might still be on the river.
At the end of the river, because no one really wanted to leave, we ended up lashing about 10 canoes together and finishing off all the beer and rum. Then en masse we headed down river at the other Squad members who had so helpfully turned in their canoes already and were playing in the water. We crashed into them like the Persians in Thermopylae vs. the 300 Spartans but with more blood and screaming. A while later the parts were reattached. We had been waiting for an eternity on the shore when I believe what has been dubbed "Beaver Barge" came by. It seemed that 3 of our canoes had taken an offshoot that Jamoni talked me out of and ended up dragging their canoes most of the way back. Two of the canoes had all females, and one was Gundown and Off Duty Ninja. That's just how they roll. Packed sardines once again, as Will tried to talk Kyle into buying a ZS bus we saw a very off-roaded Jeep Cherokee. These dumass kids had managed to get their truck stuck in almost as bad a spot as I ever had. The response from the buss driver? "Get out of the way!"
The ride back was very quiet and docile. Erik and I discussed stuff as Gunny woo'd (sp?) Julie with amazing tales of how pigs become wild pigs and Ostrich Jerky. We stopped at a "GAS" mart for snacks and fuel, and some crazy hick tried to sell Skip a meteorite. We could have used it to flint knap spears for the hoosiers on the river, but it probably had a "Space Peanut" or two.
The evening was pretty docile. The ZS board members made us dinner of dogs, brats, burgers and veggie pattys. They had made breakfast burritos on the fire as well, which were very good but not the best float food. That would have been beer. Instead of watching some loud crazy zombie movies like every other night, we watched "Feast" which featured Henry Rollins and some other bad actors as well. It was a riot though. By the time it was over, most everyone was either by the fire or passed out in their tents. It was a long, hot day on the river. I had humped all but one load of my gear down to my car that night, so I could help carry more ZS stuff down than I had up. This was probably one of my best moves, and I highly suggest it to anyone else next year. I had emptied out my cooler except for a few smuggled Canadian cokes and a small bottle of Vodka. Most of the very dirty gear (clothes, river shoes, shovel, etc.) went in there. the rest was stuffed in a duffel or my spare backpack. Tom kept heckling me to drink beer with him in manbath as I sherpa'd my gear to the car. By Saturday, at Zombie Con, a half naked drunk man in a snake infested waterfall pit telling you to come down and get drunk with him doesn't sound odd. It's not even funny. It's what we did for fun.
*****
End