(no subject)
It was midnight when the cats came, snarling and shredding. The previous campers had left meat in the fire pit; though we were careful to eat far away from the tent, that hadn't registered. Hallsi woke up first. She told me later that she was terrified to move; she didn't wake me, but a loud snarl did. They were fighting over meat. They sounded giant. We lay there shivering in fear. What sort of cats did they have in the hill country of Texas? Giant ones. Ripping and clawing, sharp teeth and powerful sinewy limbs, and angry. My heart threatened to explode. Quavering fingers found the phone, dialed 800, 812, 912, 913, fuck, 911. "Hi, my phone is almost out of batteries and we're down in Camp Creek off of the 343 and our tent is surrounded by wildcats."
Ten minutes of abject terror later, the laughing policeman explained that bobcats were slightly bigger than tabbies. When he had arrived, he said, fifty deer had been standing there looking at his truck. If the cats aren't eating the deer, and they have to settle for twice-cooked meat...
Still, we were shaken, and we drove a bit further to a picnic area across from a prison. We were the only people there. We slept in an open car.
Hooray for common sense.
We spent the night before at the apartment of my drag queen friend and his fiance. There is a twenty-year age difference between the two, which is unsettling at first and remains a bit odd. We smoked salvia; Hallsi rediscovered her tree self and was devastated to rejoin humanity and discover a hundred ant bites on her roots/legs; Dylan (my friend) walked around apologizing to bookshelves and laughing his head off; I entered a space station made of musical instruments and danced around with droids; Chuck started drowning in a viscous bubble of nothingness. Crazy times.
Hooray, as well, for reverse chronological order.
New orleans. Drunkness. Not for me, though I saw a lot of it. The place is one giant party. Beautiful houses. Affable people. Loud people. Good dixieland jazz. AMAZING bubble tea.
Forward to now. We are at my parents' house, to recuperate and do laundry and eventually, twizmo, post pictures of the trip so far.
Ten minutes of abject terror later, the laughing policeman explained that bobcats were slightly bigger than tabbies. When he had arrived, he said, fifty deer had been standing there looking at his truck. If the cats aren't eating the deer, and they have to settle for twice-cooked meat...
Still, we were shaken, and we drove a bit further to a picnic area across from a prison. We were the only people there. We slept in an open car.
Hooray for common sense.
We spent the night before at the apartment of my drag queen friend and his fiance. There is a twenty-year age difference between the two, which is unsettling at first and remains a bit odd. We smoked salvia; Hallsi rediscovered her tree self and was devastated to rejoin humanity and discover a hundred ant bites on her roots/legs; Dylan (my friend) walked around apologizing to bookshelves and laughing his head off; I entered a space station made of musical instruments and danced around with droids; Chuck started drowning in a viscous bubble of nothingness. Crazy times.
Hooray, as well, for reverse chronological order.
New orleans. Drunkness. Not for me, though I saw a lot of it. The place is one giant party. Beautiful houses. Affable people. Loud people. Good dixieland jazz. AMAZING bubble tea.
Forward to now. We are at my parents' house, to recuperate and do laundry and eventually, twizmo, post pictures of the trip so far.