Who Loves Ya, Baby?

I spent the summer of 2001 working at a Cub Scout Summer Camp called Indian Mount Reservation. My Boy Scout troop had gone there for our summer camp every year for as long as our troop had existed, as far as i know, and i had always loved the place. Obviously i've got a lot of memories from camping there. But after the 2000 season, the management decided to switch gears and convert the entire camp to focus on the younger kids, the Cub Scouts. My troop then moved on to Camp Dekorah, wherever that is, i don't even remember, but i wasn't really ready to let IMR go. I spoke with the program director (whom we affectionately referred to as Doug Tape) that last year we were there, and secured myself a spot as a counselor for the 2001 season.

I'm not really happy about what ended up happening after that, mostly because i spent much of the summer of 2001 making an ass out of myself and probably making Doug Tape wish he hadn't taken me under his wing. But, there are of course bright spots in my short and illustrious career of manhandling small boys.

For example, there was the time when a dozen ten year olds jumped on my head and held me down on the ground for several minutes while their parents all gathered around, mentioning how precious it was. That was great{.} Note my use of the recently-christened sarcasm mark.

Also great was how, at the geriatric age of 16, i had my first taste of what it's like to be an out-of-touch old codger, when i made a reference to Devo and was met with blank stares, which continued as i expanded the comment to include the fact they they performed the song Whip It. As i sang the chorus, i was met only with head shaking. Yeah. Oldness.

God damn it, that was 10 years ago!

There was also a tender moment where i helped a one-armed eight year old from inner city Milwaukee shoot a bow and arrow for the first time. It was one of those heart-rending moments where you know you're part of something incredible, if only for a moment. The boy's father thanked me in an emotional display. It's not something i can really leave out while talking about that summer, but it's one of those things that there aren't non-sappy words to describe. It was a powerful moment.

But i was recently reminded of this time that the staff was taken out for some kind of staff appreciation day. IMR resides in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, a mere stone's throw from the world famous Milwaukee. And within the aforementioned Milwaukee resides the world famous Ed Debevics. Ed Debevics is one of those "come for the food, stay for the abuse" type places, where the waitstaff is intentionally rude in a hilarious way, and sometimes stands on tables to perform weird little song-and-dance numbers. It was something of a tradition among the IMR staff to eat together at Ed's at least once during the course of the summer.

As our waitress, Gerdy (how the hell do you spell "Girdy" anyway? I'm just sounding this out here), was taking our drink order, she made a mention of how her sister had the same shirt as i was wearing. It was one of those (in retrospect) lame Hot Topic one-liner deals, maybe "You Call Me A Freak Like It's A Bad Thing" or maybe "I See Dumb People." I was really into that kind of predictable shit in high school so it's hard to remember exactly which overpriced piece of embarrassing fabric had adorned my torso at that exact juncture in life.

So, as was my wont at the time, i asked Gerdie if i could possibly marry her sister. Gerte didn't think that would be possible, for some reason. After she left the table, the joke resonated with the group for a while and i was built up to do something foolish. Not that it took much (then or ever, really; i'm pretty easy to goad into doing stupid stuff whether i'm drunk or not).

When Gyrdi returned to take our food orders, i requested "A six-way chili with a side of your sister's phone number." In an astonishing turn of events, she actually gave me the number.

Naturally, my compatriots then persuaded Gerrrdi to bring me the restaurant's phone so i could give her sister a little jingle right there and then. If this wasn't already a superbly bad idea, and i mean literally any part of this whole situation, from getting the phone number at all and on, i went ahead and did it.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Is this Girdi's sister?"

"Yeah..."

"Will you marry me?"

Things went expediently downhill from there, and i was eventually forced to give the phone to Gherdi so she could smooth things over with her irritated sibling. The table laughed, they cheered, there were high fives. I think. I like to imagine that it went that way, anyway.

So then there was dinner, it was amazing, so on, so forth. As we were leaving the restaurant, i spotted Gehrty across the dining room and shouted...nay, bellowed, "GOODBYE EVERYBODY! I LOVE YOU GIRDEY BUT I LOVE YOUR SISTER MOOOOOOOOOORRRREEEEEE!!!!"

Yeah. That happened.