Over this long past holiday weekend some friends and I travelled out to the county, far out passed the city lights, the sound of the freeway traffic, and the concrete foundations that sturdy the civilized world beneath our feet. We packed up coolers full of canned beer, and very little of it was imported. We went heavy on the cheap stuff. I prefer the prior, but the crowd that I ran with on this trip didn't, so I primed up my liver with the premium, and then kicked it into full throttle with whatever was thrown my way.
An old girlfriend of mine originally took me out there, but once we broke up I decided that I was confiscating this little oasis as my own, so every chance we city kids get the opportunity, we make the trek out to La Grange. There are lots of things that I remember about this trip, though most of it was cloaked under my inebriated umbrella. I wish I had the pictures of all of these moments, because there's no way that I can encapsulate all of my memories in a three or four hundred word article, but I thought summing it up in a few hundred word glimpse might be interesting.
When we started Saturday morning with four-thirty packs, nine cases of beer, a fifth of tangueray gin, one of malibu rum, and a mobile mohito-margarita bar in the back of my boy Joey's car, I didn't think that we'd be speeding down highway 71 honking and taunting big rigs to blow their horns. I also didn't think that we'd have contests from the rock cliff to see who could come the closest to completing a full on double-flip, in which no one succeeded, but everyone wound up with a bruised face, a damaged sternum, or a swollen anus while complaining about a near quarry water enema. I didn't think that I'd be doing cannonballs from a rock cliff while trying to land on the catfish below, or end up with a sunburn on my face that made me look like a red chinaman. I most definitely didn't think that after two days of that we'd come back home only to party in celebration of my friend Charlie's birthday. Matter of fact, let me rephrase that...I had no party left in me, but remember fading out on the couch around nine o'clock to the blaring sounds of Lazarrus' "Goodbye Horses" as a gathering of friends kept the party going.
Photo courtesy of Charles Goodman
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