Tour Day, Part 2

In case you missed yesterday's post read it first, so that today's is in clear perspective and context. You can click here to read it...

After Monkey Island, there was a sense that things couldn't get any worse. We were wrong!

On the way into see our not-so friendly primate friends, David pointed out the Indian village we would soon visit. It appeared to be only about 10 minutes away, and would give a few of our team the opportunity to visit the facilities, so to speak. However, we quickly passed by the dock where we were supposed to stop, and a sudden sense came over me that we were going to see a different village. David mentioned that we must be going to a different Indian tribe, and we began to inquire of Freddy as the the whereabouts of our next encounter. To my great sadness, we would be returning to our original dock for more fuel, then another 15 minutes to meet the Bora Tribe. That's right, another hour and forty-five minute boat ride.

After running aground 3 times (sudden jerks are not good on loose bowels) on the way back, we finally had more fuel. The Amazon turned into a tributary, and as we continued into some smaller canals, Freddy pointed out the place where we would soon get to hold some Anacondas (that's right, Anacondas). Up ahead I could see the tops of a few thatch roofed huts, and got the affirmation that these were indeed the home to the Bora people. As we approached the dock I was enjoying the beautiful everglade-like scenery, when from the back of the boat I hear, "Are those boobies?" Now just this phrase alone has enough awkwardness to throw you into a "What is happening?" type moment. As I begin to get my bearings from being blindsided by that that word making an appearance, I look ahead in disbelief at the woman on the docks. We're still a good 75 yards away, but it's pretty apparent that this 60 something year-old lady is covering herself with only a loin cloth. In my mind I began to scramble. I had the thought, "I'm responsible for this team. I need to do something!" So, I did something... Stared... Ahead... At the lady.

Have you ever passed by a wreck on the interstate? You could tell from a distance that it was bad, and there was the possibility you would see something that would forever wreck your life, and give you bad dreams for weeks? Yeah. I stared. I would have glared longer but 15 completely naked children running around made me come out of my trance. I was in complete disbelief and shock. We were LIVING National Geographic. You can say what you want about their culture, but it ain't our culture, and as much as they are used to running around swinging in the breeze, we are not, and we are even more not used to seeing it. I could not believe this was happening. If we had been warned, it would have been one thing, but we weren't. I was just daydreaming and thinking how neat this all was when I heard the "b" word and saw it's reference point up ahead.

The village is made up of river huts. They are on the river, but exist on stilts, so to go anywhere you walk on planks. These planks were constructed with 4' 10", 145 pound Bora Indians in mind, and not 6'2", 215 pounds of pure table muscle. So, to walk across the 50 yards worth of planks was adventure enough of it's own. Little did I know the real adventure started at the entrance to the hut where we were greeted by 15 or 20 naked ladies. To be fair, they all had on loin clothes, but does that really qualify? I don't know that it would have been any more awkward if they had no covering at all. Anyway, they began to put necklaces and head dresses on us, which meant that I would have to bend way over (yes, this added to the uneasiness of it all). So in a neck turned and twisted state, as to miss facial contact with baby feeders, I received my new apparel and entered the tent to see what else might happen.

I looked at the ground a lot, but noticed Greg when he walked in. They had given him the designation of Chief, and his head dress was very ornate and big. Greg was still pretty upset about his earlier monkey attack and the ever increasing tension of this newest experience was not making him feel any better. But it got worse, quickly.

Freddy began telling us about the Bora people, how long they had lived there, how they maintained the area, what dialect they spoke, etc. Then he said these words, which I don't know if I will ever forget. He said, "They would like to show you some of their tribal dances. They will include you in the dance, and it is seen as VERY offensive if you do not participate." "Really? This is not happening," I thought. I looked at Greg, and his face went from slightly perturbed to an all out sense of helplessness, as did the rest of the team. These naked people were gonna dance, which was strange enough, but now we were gonna be involved. Seriously involved.

As they began to dance, the first person they grabbed was their chief, Greg. During his walk up to the dance area he shouted death threats at David and myself. We laughed, David filmed, it was a great time. One by one the team was personally pulled up to take part in an ancient dance of the Bora people. At one point I thought, "This is pretty neat. How many people get to experience this kind of culture, or do anything remotely like this outside of a strip joint? Nobody, that's who. But here we are, hand in hand with some naked people doing a dance to a chant I can't understand." So, I just kept glancing from the floor to Greg enjoying the moment in the only two safe places I could look without feeling dirty. David got two videos of this, and several pictures to document the occasion. I didn't load them on here, but if you want to see them they are posted to facebook.

What else needs to be said, really? I don't know many people who could honestly say, "I went on a mission trip, and while I was there we lead some people to Christ, did some discipleship, planted a few churches, oh, and I danced with some naked ladies." Never heard that at a missions conference, or during a trip report at a church. When we sat down, David asked if we would share this with the church. "Yeah, I doubt it," I said, "but you can bet your loin cloth and topless Boras it's going on the blog." You're welcome... you're welcome.

Tour Day, Part 1

This all started on Saturday. None of the team could afford a real Amazon tour, so David Chism, or fearless leader, set up a home grown tour day for us. During lunch he saw a local guy named Freddy that he had worked with before, and asked him if he could set up an excursion for us on the Amazon River. Around a half hour later Freddy returned to give us a quote for such a trip, which would take place at 8 am the following Friday. We would visit Monkey Island, an Indian Village, and get to see some real life Anacondas. The group seemed amiable to the price and attractions, with only a few unhappy mumblings over the possible snake encounter, so we decided to go for it. We had no idea what lie ahead...

Friday morning we arrived at the boat docks at 8 am, but we were in Peru, so we knew that we would likely not leave until 8:30 (This is not a knock, just a realization that there is a difference in U.S. time and Peruvian time). When 8:30 rolled around we were still boatless, and I could tell Freddy was getting a little nervous. He hinted that he didn't think his reserved captain would be able to make it, so he rented a different, less sophisticated vessel for us to tame the great Amazon beast. We rode for 30 minutes. When I inquired as to the whereabouts of this famed Monkey Island, Freddy responded that we were still a good 50 minutes away. Perhaps it would be beneficial to mention here that more than half of the people who were on the boat were severely stricken with Montezuma's revenge, present company not excluded, and were not prepared for such a long aquatic journey. Nevertheless, with beats of sweat forming rapidly on our foreheads, we pressed onward.

The next time I checked my watch I realized we had traveled about an hour and a half, ten minutes farther than the expected time to reach Monkey Island. Freddy began to inquire of the boat driver where he was going, only to find out that he wasn't entirely sure where the specific location of said primate isle might be. We spotted a young child washing clothes on the bank of the river and floated over to get some decent directions. I never heard any words exchanged, but evidently a good hand motion does the trick because we were there in about 15 minutes.

I hate to inform you that I had some horribly incorrect presuppositions about this island of monkeys. In my mind, it was a wonderfully sunny place where our primate cousins existed in cages for us to gander at and photo. Oh no, I was WAY off. This place was a dark corner of the world where these creatures were allowed to roam free like us humans. They are free to grab you, or jump on your person, or throw their little doo doo balls at you with stunning accuracy.

We had not gotten off of the boat good when a red howler monkey walked up to Holly with his manlike hands in the air. She asked what he wanted, but in the blink of an eye, he was up on her shoulders laying across her back. In a moment where I should have been thinking of all the snide remarks I could have made about getting the not-so proverbial monkey off your back, all I could say was, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to touch them." Holly nervously begged, "Get it off me!" and being her knight in shining armor, with a touch of chivalry, I added, "Nuh uh, I ain't touching that thing, I don't like animals. Especially ones that have hands like me." Little did we know the fun was only just beginning. Seconds later Freddy, our tour guide, was attacked by two black spider monkeys. One jumped on each of his arms and began biting him. He was able to sling them to the ground, and they made their way into a nearby tree. My friend Greg happened by that tree and the two ninja-like monsters jumped down on his head. They commenced to whooping up on Greg by pulling his hair, beard, and sunglasses. They went digging in his backpack, bit his ear, and finally came to a place of rest on his arms before he slung them off while screaming, "I'm gonna punch you in the face and knock you out!" As they ran off with a monkey giggle, Greg said, "That's it! I'm ready to leave Monkey Island RIGHT NOW!"

We managed to separate Holly from her monkey, Rusa, and we made for a small building to get some cover from the little gorillas. Rusa would not be denied as he pulled apart some of the roof to get in after Holly, his new girlfriend. While we were in the building one of the team members asked me how I escaped having the monkeys get on me, and I explained that one of those spider monkeys had reached for my hand and I slapped him in his little monkey face as I explained that I wasn't playing around with him, and that I would body slam him as an example to the rest of his friends if he didn't go on. He must have spread the word because none of them tried anything else. We safely made it out to the boat, foolishly thinking that the worst part of the day was over, but we were wrong. What lie ahead would change our lives as we knew it...

Until Part 2 tomorrow, here's evidence of this small tale:

NEVER on a plane

I learned a couple of valuable lessons on this trip to Ecuador. The first was that you should never plan two trips back to back. It's too much! Another thing that I learned was far more sinister, and unforgettable. If you don't like my posts about bathroom things, now would be a good time for you to look away, and read someone else's blog. For the majority of you that find great joy and pleasure in my pain and stomach fails you may want to stick around.

I can sleep anywhere. Under any circumstances. Every trip that I ever took with students wrought a new picture with me asleep in interesting positions and places. The hum of a plane's engine might as well be Nyquil or Benadryl to me. I'm lucky if I make it off the runway awake. But on the flight home from Ecuador, I could not get comfortable. Then IT happened. Let me clarify...

Ecuador has possibly the best ice cream in the entire world. My stomach responds quite negatively to dairy products, but Ecuadorian ice cream is worth it. I had eaten massive amounts during the week with no consequence, but I couldn't let sleeping dogs lie. Saturday, late in the afternoon I made a poor decision. Someone said, "Let's go get one of those big ice cream cones one last time before we go home." At the time, this sounded like the greatest idea I had ever heard. Sure, I had a passing thought that it would be VERY bad to have an "episode" on the plane ride, but what could go wrong? I had eaten my weight in the stuff during the week, and nothing happened. This time would prove different.

At 3:30 am, 36,000 feet up, I awoke from a not-so-peaceful slumber mortified by what I knew was about to take place. There was no emergency landings, or turning the plane around. This was going to happen. My old friend, Cold Sweats was there with his good buddy Grinding Intestinal Pain. I spent a few minutes begging them to go away. I tried to rotate in my seat, sit up, lay back, lean forward, but there was no avoiding the inevitable. I was in a window seat, so I woke everyone up on my row as I scampered to the back of the plane praying for a miracle. God did NOT answer my prayer that night.

As I entered the 1 ft. x 1 ft. bathroom, I speedily made the necessary arrangements one does to be able to feel comfortable sitting in a place where others have stood, with bad aim. I quickly sat, and began to relieve pressure as quietly as possible. I thought things would be ok. I was wrong. We hit turbulence. Heavy. Turbulence. I gripped the sink and adjacent handle to try and hold myself down. Outside the lavatory I heard the Captain cut on the seat belt sign. I began to pray FERVENTLY something like this, "Dear Lord, I am begging you! Please commission an extra amount of gravity in this place right now. Let what has entered this toilet stay FIRMLY planted, never to rise! Lord, I will have a hard time giving thanks if you don't answer this prayer. Please send your angels to protect me...Amen!" Moments later things died down, but I was afraid.

As I left the tiny area, where I had confessed every sin, and made many promises and deals with God, I noticed people solemnly sleeping. They were oblivious to the danger that had existed only feet from them. They did not know of my torment and agony. They were ignorant of my groaning and near destruction. I made my way back to my seat angry with them and their peace. Soon, however, the hum of the turbine lulled me to sleep.

I record these things because in a month, I will be back in that land flowing with milk and honey almond ice cream. I will be faced with the same dilemma: To be overcome in the awesomeness of such a tasty delight, where evil is waiting, or to abstain and sleep well along with the others on my row. I want this to be here to remind me, so that I don't repeat former mistakes. But man, that cookies and cream was AMAZING...

Bizarre Choices Part 4

Here's another bizarre choice from Zobmondo's Book of Bizarre Choices. Which would you pick?

Would you rather:

Always have to wear wet socks?

OR

Always have to wear wet underwear?

Gall Bladder Fail

Perhaps you missed last nights warning, but for some of you who are just now tuning in, tonight's story is not for the faint of heart, or gut. The tale I am about to divulge has not been altered in any way from the reality of what took place one fateful night. Let me set the stage.

Holly and I had enjoyed a nice, quiet dinner at Wings in Patton Creek. The food was fantastic and the atmosphere as always, was quite festive. Holly mentioned that she would enjoy a nice stroll around the local Toyota dealership, and ever the giving person, I politely obliged. Had I known what lay a-brewing I would have promptly ushered her to the car and we would have driven home as speedily as possible. This night, however, I would not be so lucky. Upon arrival at the dealership I felt this familiar gurgle in the deep recesses of my gastrointestinal region. I knew what was going to happen, it was just a matter of time. I told her to go ahead, I wanted to sit in the car because my stomach didn't feel right. She said, "Do we need to go?" "URGENTLY" I thought, but "No I'm ok, you go ahead and look" is all that came out of my mouth. Five minutes passed and the onset began. I put my feet up, I turned on my side, I laid back, but no position provided comfort. I could take no more. I got out of the car, and could see Holly on the other end of the parking lot. Two joyous couples were lazily strolling around hand in hand. They seemed so content and peaceful, until I shouted, "WE NEED TO GO!"

Holly could not have walked back fast enough. As she approached the car, she said, "Are you ok?" "I tend not to cause a scene in public when I'm doing ok. Please just drive home, and fast." As we got on I-459 the pain really hit. The kind you can't avoid. My intestines screamed out, "RELEASE OR ELSE!" Cold sweats. Discomfort. I speedily undid my belt and pants to relieve some pressure, but nothing helped. I cut the A/C on high and every vent in the car was pointed at me with my feet on the dash. "I'm not going to make it home." "What do you want me to do?" Holly asked. I instructed her to get off at 119 and make her way to the Racetrac. In my mind, I thought they would have the least dirty bathrooms, but at that point, the cleanliness began to concern me less and less. My friends I tell you a great truth in life. No person should ever consider going to the bathroom in their pants just to get some relief. But there, on that ironically beautiful night, I pondered, "If I just go, there will be a massive clean up effort, but at least the pain will be gone."

As we approached the gas station, I feared the worst. Holly did not get the car in park before I jumped up and ran into the building one hand on my pants holding them up. I was completely undignified, and unashamed as I barreled through the store. When I got in the bathroom I reached to clasp the door, but the lock was broken. "Oh no! There can be no witnesses to this crime!" I speedily moved back into the hallway and with a finger pointed at the door to the girls bathroom I yelled at the man behind the counter, "Is there a lock on this door?" "Is there some..." "IS THERE A LOCK ON THIS DOOR?!?!" I interrupted. He nodded and I exploded in the door...to the shock of the 70 year old woman currently using the facilities. (Not really. I made this part up, but what an ending that would have been.) I slammed the door behind me and fastened the lock. The events that came next I can not begin to describe in mere human terms, nor would you want me to. Allow me only to say that what I did in that place was a SIN. There's no two ways about it. It's the only way I know to describe it, sin. 

As I left that place I didn't look at anyone in the face. I had desecrated their porcelain throne room, and they knew it. I got back in the car and we sped away never to be seen again. From time to time I pass by that fine establishment on warm spring days filled with peace in my belly and with a wry smile tip my hat in gratitude for the now fond memories of once uglier times. I'm not proud of these events, but relay them only to let you know that this illness is not so funny as to be casually joked about on Facebook statuses by unsuffering minions who know the Ractrac as only the place to get cheap gas.

Yummy

Most people know that I have a pretty weak stomach. I always thought that I would be better when I had kids, but not much has changed. My gag reflex is pretty immediate upon something that looks or smells pretty gross. Kids tend to manufacture these smells and displays of grossness on a daily basis.

Anyway, tonight after church Holly and I took the kids to a carnival at the church where Holly grew up. When I got there I was starving, so it didn't take me long to find the food line for some delicious BBQ. I had a pork plate with some delicious slaw and baked beans. The sweet tea was awesome and I even scored a bag of Fritos. I was doing alright!

Trey got a bag of Doritos (possibly his favorite chip) and began to chow down while sitting in my lap. He loves chips, but often tries to swallow them before they have been properly chewed. Tonight was no exception. As he was sitting in my lap, he became choked on a chip that he inhaled. I had the last bite of my sandwich in my right hand, and had my left hand around Trey holding him, when his choke turned to a gag. Then it happened. He, um, purged. Out of instinct I caught it in my left hand. All of his dinner and chips lay in an orange liquid in my hand. Insert my gag sound here. I poured out my hand onto my plate, speedily handed Trey to Holly, and ran into the kitchen to wash my hand. I did not puke! 

I suppose that being a father really has helped my guttural weakness after all!

Flight of the Conchords

I would be a major jerk if I didn't show you these guys. I hope you've seen them before, but if you haven't, you're about to find out all you might have missed out on. Enjoy!!

Bizarre Choices Part 3

Here's another odd choice from Zobmondo's Book of Bizarre Choices. Which would you pick?

Would you rather:

Lick the floor underneath a refrigerator 

OR

Lick the underside of a toilet rim?

Caption Please

Please write a caption for this photo. Haha! I love it!

Family Dance Night Part 2

I taught him the sweet move he uses at about 0:14.

Get funky Grandmaw!

I laughed so hard at this video that a little bit of tee tee came out! IN-CREDIBLE!!

An Unexpected Gift

It started just like any other night. Between 10 and 12 every night we go into the bathroom as a family and either Holly or I get in the tub with the babies.  The other helps out by bathing Trey while Claire Kate soaks. It's a great method. Tonight I agreed to get in the tub. Holly had just finished bathing Trey and was getting him lathered up with lotion, dressed, and ready for bed. I was holding up my end of the bargain by washing Claire Kate. I pulled my feet up to sit her elevated on my lap as I put the shampoo on her scalp. I got the soap and began the process of scrubbing her down. That's when it happened...

She sharted! 

On me!

Bizarre Choices Part 2

Here is another bizarre choice from Zobmondo's Book of Bizarre choices. What is your decision?

Would you rather:

Always have a little black piece of spinach stuck between your teeth

or

a little booger in your nose that moves when you breathe?

This Dude is Awesome!

I love people like this guy! He's awesome, and comfortable being himself. I'd love to meet him!

With Friends Like These...

Jonathan sent me this video this morning and I needed to share it with all of you.  Enjoy!

Lemons anyone?

I know, I know, I'm a horrible parent, but this is SOOO funny. This is Trey's first experience with lemons. It's a couple of months old, but still funny. He loves them now.

Oh, also, tonight when I was in the tub with Trey giving him a bath, he dropped a floater on me. There was a quick evacuation and extraction followed by a swift drain and refill and we progressed on just as pretty as we pleased. Ah the joys of having kids!

Hilarious

I laughed out loud during this clip. Totally Awesome!

Tough

Trey is tough! Here's one of the reasons why. Holly thought about sending this video to AFV. Do you think it's worthy?

I like watching my brother get tazed!

This is my brother Joseph. He works for the police department in Alabaster. This is his taser certification. I like to watch it at least once a week. It makes me happy!

Enjoy!

Trip Phrases

Every youth trip we take, there's always a phrase that we create that everyone says for the entire trip. It gets old really quick, but then becomes funny, and memorable. Here are a few we've had on previous trips: "My sheep are missing" "For me to poop on" "You ain't got no pancake mix" "Clearly" etc...

For today's trip to Atlanta for the lock-in tonight it will be, "The male Sea Horses carry the babies!"

Just thought I would share. Any other suggestions?