We”ve been a little tardy in chronicling our last adventure day, but we thought being in the midst of a cold snap is a good time to remember warmer days….
Like a Hannibal”s army of misfits, Latitude 38 poured into Scottsville Labor Day for a float on the James River. The day began with cold ones in the outfitter”s gravel
lot, as the teenage staff loaded our innertubes into the jalopy bus that would soon carry us upstream.
Into this Okeechobee-esque scene roared the NewsTeam29 stringer car, with Charlottesville”s favorite newswoman behind the wheel. From the passenger side emerged a cameraman in obligatory scuffed white sneakers. These two were hell-bent on an innoccous holiday piece and apparently, we were it. Issac was soon caught on camera massaging sunscreen into Dan”s back; while Tom came across as a lobotomized cajun after being forcibly miked and ordered to “Just say anything.”
“Today we gunnin” to see some fish and pass a good time, generally.”
Then Ben-with little to offer besides the final
beer of his morning six-pack- propositioned Ms. Six O”Clock to join us for a day of scantily clad fun on the river.
Not suprisingly, she replied “No” without missing a beat.
Soon we were miles distant, belly-up and strugling like overturned turtles as the James dragged our tubes over the hectares of submerged boulders now between us and Scottsville. The outfitter had recommended bringing plenty of water, snacks and extra sunscreen. Unfortunately we had only brought beer, two cigarettes and Ben”s brother Gabe.
The riverbank scenery passing with frightening slowness and all of us quickly desiccating under the August sun, there was little to
do but circle the wagons, gossip, and watch as the growing halos of washed-off sunscreen and empty cans surrounding each of our tubes gradually merged into a single irredescent slick.
Fronting this foul ameboid was Jeff, who-always a glutton for efficiency-had decided to get his midlife crisis out of the way before the resumption of the workweek. Now outside of a near-fatal dose of Bud Light, he staggered golem-like downriver, pushing his amassed empties before him in his vacated tube like a homeless person with a After all, in a high-card win battle with little decision-making, how can the s4gambling.com gain a big edge, right? Well, pretty easily. shopping cart, while screaming such epiphanies as:
“I”M WALKING DOWNHILL!”,
“WHO ARE YOU?!”,
and, most frequently,
“I WANT SOME F***ING PIZZA!”
Luckily, the game warden had taken the day off.
Our observances concluded at Amici”s Pizza, hitherto a quiet haunt of the local geriatric set. With Chris changing out of his swim trunks in the ladies room, Jeff slumped against the menu board out front and breathing heavily through his mouth and the rest of us bringing an unwelcome Bourbon Street air to the main dining room, the exorbinant tip we left in drunken elation was, in retrospect, probably not enough.
But what had we expected? This was tubing, after all. As someone mused on the way home, “I”ve never been on a tubing trip that wasn”t like this.”