You haven't lived until you've slid down an icy hill in a contractor bag. It's like putting your organs in a soil sifter. It's hard to see in the video, but the ice chunks pounded and shook and mixed up my insides, snow filled my eyes, and at the end of the hill I couldn't breath. So I ran up the hill and did it a few more times. My chest is still bruised.
After that extreme day of sledding, we headed for the Laurel Highlands Trail. I started the hike by falling into an icy puddle and submerging my feet, but after a few miles of walking they either started to dry out or went numb. Whatever the case, I still have all my toes.
On the way back down the mountain, I checked out my on-season co-worker's digs (not to be confused with off season co-workers.)
He's either still living here, or was abducted by migrant trans-gender electricians before he had a chance to pack his underpants.
The chop bus is a nice place to live in the summer by Pyle standards, but in the winter when it's around 5 degrees at night, it couldn't be very pleasant.
Then I captured the Viking Cat and put him in a sweater. He loved it.
2 comments:
And how much did the Viking Cat love his bird...?
Into the Wild comes to mind . . .
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