After last week's family drama I decided I needed to drink away my sorrows this weekend so Saturday I headed up to Gaviota for the San Luis Obispo Hash House Harriers' run and mini-campout.
R and C decided to make a day of it too after I told them there would be beer and topless women so we all piled into R's truck and headed north. What amazed me was the fact that I, the only woman in our trio, merely brought along a sleeping bag, a 12-pack of Bass, and a bag with some warm clothes. The two men, on the other hand, brought along two tents, air mattresses, three sets of clothes, six pair of shoes, and enough hair product to put the local Paul Mitchell distributor out of business. It was to be only a 20 hour trip...
We arrived in time for a quick beer or two, or three, before the run started. The run ended up being about six miles over the mountains and through the woods with great views of the Pacific, four beer checks, and a stream crossing. It's always nice to get your feet wet midway through a trail run. After the run we all headed back to the campground to set up for the night. Turns out R was so drunk by the time we got to the campsite that when he went to set up his tent he realized he had forgotten his tent poles. Same thing with B, another hasher. Yes, we are known for our intelligence. C was the only one with a tent with poles, but it was a small tent. The majority of folks decided to just sleep under the stars so our campsite ended up looking like a homeless zone, with bodies strewn on tarps on the ground and one dingy grey tent off to the side.
Lucky for us there was a concert and BBQ taking place at a park about 1/2 mile from the campground so some of us showered, changed and headed over. The band was good and B had brought a big bottle of Jack Daniels so folks were well-lubed. I'm a puker so I stay away from the hard stuff. This also leads to more clarity than the masses at these events, which is usually a good thing. The music ended and we stumbled back to camp.
At some point during the evening a herd of teenaged boys converged on our camp. I think they were helping retrieve firewood or something. They told me they were all at least 18, in fact, on boy told me he had lost his virginity three months ago so he was experienced. Tempting as it was, I passed. Anyhow, they wanted a picture of them with our group so, kindly old lady that I am, I flashed a boob when the guy to the picture. This was like opening Pandora's Box and set the boys into a tizzy. They were so excited that I decided to flee with C and R. Of course, while I was away my goods friends back at camp told the boys, especially the runt, that I liked teenagers and was really serious about one of them. This led to three of them storming the beach in search of the "hot older lady" that I apparantly am. Thank god R, a tall former Australian rules football player, was there. I told the boys he was my husband and got very jealous. They immediately apologized to him, called him sir, and scampered back to camp.
The next morning when I emerged from the tent my fellow campers seemed to be snoring to the tune of Simon & Garfunkel...
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