Story from my summer

long time since my last post- sorry about that, but to make up for it, I'll give a story which i'm sure you'll love that happened with my best friend/twin... enjoy ;) warning- involves being called hobos and facing park rangers :p

It all started when I visited Sammy Soso the last week of July in 2013, first time seeing my twin after 9 years. Great reunion! More of that later, but for now, we will focus on the story of the hobos. It just so happened that the week I visited, the lil kids contracted a flu, one of the younger siblings attached herself to me and soon I ended up with a cold. So here I am, first time seeing my best friend after 9 years, a photographer determined to have a photo shoot with her, but sick as a pup. Still wouldn’t stop that photo shoot, we headed out to a pretty place in Kentucky for pictures on the day that my cold was the worst. Once we got to the destination, she and her sister assure me that it’s an abandoned camp site and we most likely won’t get in trouble. There was this one cabin that was unlocked which we decided to make our “hold up”. For our photo shoot, we couldn’t decide on what theme, so we borrowed their brother’s civil war revolver replica that only had blanks in it, remember that, and we also had a homemade bow and arrow that Moriah, the sister, made. Once we had gotten all situated, Sam wanted to travel to the railroad tracks that was like 6000 miles away down a very steep hill, and I’m not exaggerating one bit. Ok, maybe a little, but still. We left the gun, bow and arrow, and some clothes there on the table in the cabin and headed to the railroad tracks a state away. Ok so it’s only like 4 miles away and down a very, very steep hill. With all the walking being done, I thought for sure I was going to die with all the wheezing and panting and trying to breathe through my very stuffy nose. Oh, and did I mention we had no water? Yeah, we should have thought of that. Anyway, we do our photo shoot, easily over 1,000 pictures taken and we start heading back up the steep hill and the 4-5 miles back to camp. As we head up the hill, we think we hear the sound of a train, but we decide it’s only the barge on the river honking it’s horn. We make it to the half top, still have to climb one more rock. Sam and Moriah go up one way and I try to figure out a different way that’s easier and won’t make me feel so dead. I had it figured out, thinking I could do a movie rock climb stunt, but only it’s real life and I don’t have a mattress beneath me to catch me if I fall, only a sudden death by rocks and tree stumps. Here I am, sick out of my mind, wanting a drink of water and trying to breathe as best as possible but still thinking I can do an amazing stunt. Only problem? When I swing one leg up on the rock, my other boot gets stuck on the rock ledge below. Thinking for sure that these were my final moments, I almost started crying and realized that I would probably be the first to die in the Hunger Games. Joy. I mentally smack myself to pull myself together and calmly pull my leg out of the rock’s hold, quickly swinging the rest of me up on the top rock. There on my back I start laughing and breathing once more. Not believing I was still alive. And then suddenly all of us heard it. The very loud horn of the train. If we hadn’t left the tracks the time we did, we’d be train food. So there we are, at the top, thanking God we’re still alive, except for my poor sunglasses that I had with me, and watching the train go by. We all catch our breath and start heading back to camp. Little did we know that two park rangers on a gator were waiting for us to return. Once we get in view of the cabin and notice the gator, we start looking at each other and wondering why they were in front of our cabin. I was tempted to keep on walking, but we did need our stuff. Hellos were exchanged and we were notified by the senior ranger that “it seems there are people living in this cabin” because there was a “loaded” gun, bow and arrow, and clothes on the table. We decided to help the poor guy out and explain we own the stuff, to his surprise. Apparently they were expecting two gay guys, because of my jacket thing. Thanks, no really, thank you park ranger. When we mentioned that everything on the table belonged to us, his eyes widened like a little kid who finds out Santa isn’t real, sorry people, and proceeds to ask us if we’ve been living there. We all looked at each other and tried not to laugh; even though all the walking and climbing may have made us sweat and gather dirt on our clothes, we were apparently much cleaner than your average hobo. Explaining we did not in fact live in this lovely, run down, dusty, most likely rat infested shack, we then attempted to go in the house, but were stopped immediately by the ranger yelling saying that we can’t enter or even go near it until the police from Louisville show up. So we all take a seat on the ground, taking random pictures and conversing with the rangers. Ok, more like mocking them but sweetly. At one point, my nose started dripping and I asked if they had tissue, to our surprise, they had a roll of toilet paper. I’m now rethinking my decision of using that. The rangers also went into detail about how dangerous a blank gun is, claiming that one person had died from it there in that camp site. Excuse me while I scratch my head and wonder about this. When we weren’t discussing gay males, hobos taking over the cabin and us living there, and the dangerous blank filled gun, Sam, Moriah, and I talked amongst ourselves. Now, I don’t blame the senior ranger for laughing at our conversations, we are totally hilarious, but when you stare at us and smile creepily, I start getting concerned. After about 30 minutes of waiting, the cop from Louisville finally showed up. He asked the two rangers why he drove all the way down there, and to be honest, he didn’t seem too pleased to find out the reason. He examined all our stuff, took apart the gun, and while smoking a large cigar, stated to us that our gun was in fact dangerous. I couldn’t pass that comment up so I turned on my phone and wrote out on an empty text page for the girls that “smoking ain’t that much better.” Which, of course made them giggle, only to capture our two creepers—er, I mean rangers’ attentions. After taking apart the gun, and writing down Sam’s information on what appeared to be a napkin, we were allowed to gather our stuff and go home. About half way to the car we all busted out laughing, and wondered how bad those two rangers got in trouble. So there you have it, we’re hobos and escaped being arrested and celebrated our victory at McDonalds.

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