When We Almost Died at the Grand Canyon (Part I)

Too much of deep, life changing philosophical thinking is making my IQ drop at an alarming rate. This is dangerous. Especially in the morning. From when I just got up until about lunch time, my IQ is at a dangerously low point. It is roughly equal to half of my normal level. This morning, my level of IQ is already close to 30-35 on most IQ measurement scale. Most people would consider it a crime to have an IQ this low. Therefore I should stop rambling about philosophical wisdom before my IQ reaches a new low and turn me into a full-blown retard. Instead I will recall a distant memory of a week in the summer after my college graduation. This happened in the summer of 2004 (July), which now makes me feel so old…

We had just finished college. We were, once again, free men, no longer chained to our desks and our massive textbooks, some of which, I can assure you, were large enough to be considered as the weapon of death in many homicide cases. To celebrate this momentous event, three of us, myself, my long time college roommate which also is a very good buddy of mine, and another friend of ours that due to reasons I won’t mention in this entry, will be referred to as the Catman, decided to drive halfway across the country to the gambling capital of the world, Las Vegas, the Sin City itself. Along the way we would stop at Colorado and at one of the America’s wonders: The Grand Canyon.

Long story short, because we were (and I still very much am) such cheap bastards, instead of renting the guest houses, we camped at the Grand Canyon. We slept in a tent under the mighty sky and had to cook our food on the campfire in total darkness. The tent was rather small for three adults, especially when one of which was 2 meters tall. For some reasons beyond me, that night the Catman acted weirder than he usually does. Make no mistakes, he is already a relatively weird guy by most standards (Catman, if you happen to read this, don’t get mad. You still hold a very special spot in my heart). He was very restless and kept tickling my friend and I over our sleeping bags. Then he stole my pillow. Then he tried to instigate a pillow fight. Then he tickled me again. I had hypothesized that he was probably possessed by the spirit of an ancient Egyptian cat-goddess infused with distemper. I can only suppose cabin fever had also played a role.

I realize that I lack the capacity to enjoy some of nature’s beauty. Therefore I will refrain from making comments about the canyon besides the fact that it is HUGE beyond imagination. You cannot see the bottom of it. I have robust fear of falling from the top of its cliff. I guess that’s why it’s called the GRAND Canyon.

To be continued….