The other night I found myself in a big sprawling bungalow at the top of a ravine. It was a very nice bungalow with big windows and the sort of open-concept interior real estate agents like to call "California style." It had shag carpeting all over the place, nice proper wool shag carpeting that has nothing at all to do with retro kitsch and everything to do with wicked brilliant luxury.

At the back those big windows looked down on the ravine. A path of short-cropped grass wandered from the patio doors, kind of drifting left and right as it headed for the ravine floor through a dense forest of spruce and birch and a bunch of other trees whose names I don't know. This was the path to the bungalow hot tub.

Here is something you should remember in case you ever build a luxury bungalow on a large ravine lot:

Putting the hot tub in a forest way far away from the back door of the bungalow sounds romantic and sexy but in reality is mostly inconvenient.

Here is why:

That night I thought it would be wicked fun to go have a quick soak in the hot tub before retiring. I also thought -- recklessly, as it turns out -- that what's the point of having a private bungalow with a private forest hot tub on a private patch of secluded land if you can't go commando on your way out for a dip?

So.

I dropped trou and headed out the patio doors.

Jeepers what a steep hill. Way steeper than it looked. It was tough to keep my balance in bare feet. There were these sharp little twiggy bits of tree branch all over the path too, and they were all like "Hey! Barefoot guy! Wear some effin' shoes!"

But I figured I would tuff it out because the restorative effervescence of the waters would surely make up for a few little nicks and scrapes.

Then.

I heard voices. The distinctive voices of hikers. People were headed up the hill on my private path, all chatty about wasn't that ever wicked birdwatching and weren't we ever wicked lucky to see a loggerhead shrike and did you know there are only like 30 nesting pairs left in the wild in all of Ontario.

Crap, I thought. Crap crap crap. Running into the trees was out of the question. Spruces have sharp pointy needles all over and I was, as you will recall, unprotected.

"Loggerhead shrike ... Myrtle warbler ... Bicknell's Thrush"

They were getting close. I really had to do something or the birdwatchers were totally going to see me without any pants.

So.

I lay face down on the path and put my hand around back so nobody could look at my rear end. And when the birders passed by they either were so pleased about the Loggerhead shrike they didn't even notice me and all my skin, or they were just doing the civilized thing and averting their eyes.

Whew.

Once they had passed, I stood up with renewed confidence, bold and vigorous and in touch with nature. Ah, the night air!

I paused to collect my thoughts. Should I continue down the hill or should I go back up to the bungalow for shoes? Hmmm.

Then all of a sudden another crowd of hikers marched around the corner. Crap crap crap.

I returned one hand to its previous strategic location guarding my rear end, and quickly moved another so nobody would see any of my other features. Then I sort of fell forward to resume my face-down position. I think I gave myself a bruise on my head because I couldn't extend my hands to break my fall, obviously, or else Hikers 2.0 would see my unmentionables and who would want that?

Lying there as they passed, happy that they were taking no more notice than the first crew, I thought the following to myself:

Gee whiz, won't this ever be a funny story for this hot sandwich?

As I thought that, the light kind of shimmered and brightened and I found myself at home in bed. I had dreamed the bungalow and the hot tub and all its adventures.

Rats, I thought. Now I won't be able to put it up on this hot sandwich after all.

Then.

Today arrived and it was time to publish this hot sandwich and I realized the only proper thing to do was give all the facts to you, the internet public, and ask your opinion.

So.

1. Is it appropriate to tell this story here on this hot sandwich even though it didn't really happen?
2. Sometimes I think the bolder thing would have been to stride purposefully past all the hikers without making eye contact or maybe just saying a cheery "Good evening!" Would that have been a better idea than the bruise on the forehead?
3. Letting birdwatchers onto your land is fine and everything, but would a little more attention to logistics hurt?
4. No it would not.
5. Again with the questions that aren't really questions, hmmm?
6. Up yours, assface.

Posted by Bret at August 14, 2003 02:50 PM