Whiskey and Wine

It all started with an Adderall.

I woke up Thursday with a dream of productivity but after my spin class I somehow found myself cataloguing my activity closet. Anyone who has ever taken those delicious 20 mg of amphetamine salts to the face knows this feeling well.

1 Drone
2 Lacrosse sticks
1 set golf clubs
1 snowboard
1 pair skis
2 tennis rackets
2 racquetball rackets
1 pair high heels ??
1 sleeping bag
1 tent

That's a lot of stuff in a small closet and a lot of possible activities for my Thursday afternoon. Perhaps I could take a stroll to the park and get some drone footage. Maybe I could take the sticks to the driving range and work on my horrendous slice. I could even God forbid call someone and ask them to play tennis.

But with all those rational ideas readily available, I impulsively threw my tent and sleeping bag in the Mini and drove three hours east to Joshua Tree.

I didn't do it to find myself. I didn't do it because camping by yourself is cool. I did it because I was buzzing super hard on my legal cocaine and I wanted to go.

By 2 o clock, I had gone shopping and pitched my tent at Black Rock campground #8. I was feeling quite pleased with myself until I started to inventory everything I had brought with me.

A bag of potato chips, a pound of meat, one potato, a 7 dollar bottle of whiskey, 2 apples, 2 bananas, firewood, a lighter and some...uh medicine.

This completely blew my whole sunset hike plan to shit. You can probably ask the ranger for some spare firewood or even a lighter. You can't demand that they lend you their bong. Fortunately my campground had mediocre cell service so I was able to do an emergency Google search.

Surely I was not the first idiot to leave a pipe at home while packing in a haste. I was right. There are apparently LOTS of ways to smoke weed in a pinch. Coke cans, tinfoil, some guy on the internet even used his own damn hand.

I used an apple.

To create the apple pipe you also need a pen (which I didn't have) but I was able to improvise using a screwdriver from my spare tire kit. I carved a bowl hole, a carb and finally a spot to inhale. I felt like MacGuyver, the high school drop out version. And with that my day was back on track as I prepared for the 5 mile West Loop hike which would take me on an elevation gain of 1,000 feet and take me just under two hours.

I walked the serene terrain of Joshua Tree National Park while listening to a podcast about notable goat testicle enthusiast John Brinkley. I made sure to take lots of selfies because in my anecdotal research I have noticed that outdoorsy equals likes.

By the time I returned to camp the sun was setting over the San Jacinto Mountains and I was now free and cleat to get shitfaced. I turned my car on for maximum amplification and put on The Eagles Hell Freezes Over as I poured my first cocktail (this is a lie, I drank straight from the bottle all night)

After a couple more visits to my tent to meet with my friend the apple I realized that starting a fire probably would be easier with a clear mind. What was worse is that I forgot how fucking dark it gets in the desert and of course I had left my head lamp at home.

Now about five drinks in I am staring at 5 large blocks of wood and my small Bic Lighter trying to figure out how the hell I am going to get this thing lit. Usually when I go camping I make my friend Andrew start the fire while I get drunk and wrestle control of the music. When camping alone there is no Andrew to start your fire. So here I was drunk, stoned and feeling like a total beta male that can't survive in the wilderness. Sure there were neighbors, but no one wants to be the loser than admits defeat.

I looked in the car, nothing. I had already used my one paper bag and it hadn't done shit. I was about to call it quits when I remembered the one place I hadn't checked; my glove box.

My glove box is full of about 22 unpaid parking tickets which actually make pretty great kindling! There was also an old Newsroom script. Those things were like 80 pages long! The night was saved! I proceeded to burn 5 years of street cleaning infractions and my fire roared to life. I mashed the beef, peppers and potato into some tinfoil and threw that bitch straight into the fire (tinfoil dinners are lit) and smugly sat on the ground (forgot a chair) to resume pounding my whiskey.

Aside from the park ranger I hadn't met any fellow campers. I wondered what the protocol was for a solo traveler. Is it like a hostel where you just walk up to people and say hello? Or do people come camping to get away and be alone with their thoughts? I was debating the merits of going on a campground walk when a guitar chord played, one that I hadn't heard in a very long time. In a daze I walked over to a neighboring campsite. A man was sitting outside his RV strumming away on an acoustic.

"Excuse me, are you playing Matt Costa?"

He was. He was playing Sunshine, which for a period of 2005 I would have told you was my favorite song ever.

"I'm Rick, and this is my daughter Abby. She has Down's syndrome, but she finds guitar music soothing. So I bring her out here and sing to her."

Rick offers me a beer and sings Matt Costa songs to Abby and me.

"Do you know the words?"

"I do."

"Join in, Abby loves a good duet."

So on a Thursday evening I found myself singing "Whiskey and Wine" with a 40 year old man and his 9 year old developmentally disabled daughter. It was amazing.

After Rick and I performed a mini set of about 3 songs he told me about his quest to hit every National Park with Abby. They travel around in his RV look at the stars and play guitar. Not a bad way to spend your days.

Around 8:30 Rick told me that he and Abby were calling it a night. He asked if I would be around for the whole weekend. I told him I would not, but I hoped that he would find new travelers to sing Matt Costa with.

Retreating to my campground I saw that my fire was starting to die a bit and that my bottle was almost empty. Since I obviously forgot silverware I ended up eating my dinner using the screwdriver I crafted the apple with. I was still hungry after my beef stew so I ate the weed apple too.

Drunk, tired and starting to get a light case of the spins I took a look at the stars. They're so clear when you get outside the city. I felt like I was seeing Orion's belt for the first time in HD. A horn breaks me out of my daze and I realize I'm standing directly in the middle of the car path and a giant RV is in front of me.

I sheepishly smile and move out of the way when a window rolls down. It's a 20ish Filipino girl.

"Hey do you know where site 10 is?"

"Ya, this is 8, it's the next one."

"Oh cool, so you're our neighbor?"

"Ya. I guess."

"Ha, the lucky one that got put next to the Bachelorette party..."

Wait, what?

There were 8 of them in the RV. They looked much more prepared for Coachella than a long weekend in the desert. Sue was the bride to be, I don't really remember any of the other names, I had abused several substances at this point.

I joined them for a bottle of Rose and Sue made it abundantly clear that 4 of her friends were single but if we wanted to have sex it would have to be in my tent and not the RV.

One of them asked me if my hair was fake and another asked me why I would go camping alone.

"I don't know, I just felt like it?"

She thought that was the most bad ass answer ever. One bottle of wine turned into two, one of the girls suggested we play spin the bottle, another brought up Sue's infidelity and that she shouldn't marry Thomas then Sue called her a bitch...

I was sensing it was time for me to go.

I looked down at my phone and realized it was past midnight and I was likely to vomit if I had one more drop of alcohol.

I said my goodbyes and stood to leave.

"But wait, we haven't even started the party yet."

Sue pulled out a gigantic bag of mushrooms.

I froze for a moment and pictured a time when I would have said yes and stayed up all night partying with these Filipino women of loose morals on a Bachelorette party who were only in Joshua Tree instead of Ibiza because they were broke. I likely would have hooked up with one of four of them and had a great story for years to come.

But I'm 30 now and I was tired.

"Maybe another time ladies."

I walked the 50 feet to my tent as they blasted Blink 182 cackling about old boyfriends, their first blowjob, all the shit that you joke about with friends when you are on the cusp of losing them to a domestic partner.

I laid down and thought about my day. Thought about that new Diplo song Jen played at spin, thought about my impulsive decision to drive here, the apple bong, parking ticket kindling. I thought about Abby and smiled at the thought of her deriving such joy from listening to her father play guitar as the stars shine down. I thought about Sue and her fiance Thomas. I wondered if he would ever find out about Eduardo the valet driver. I envisioned how hungover I would be the following morning for my planned hike of Warren Peak. And then I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

That's how the story should have ended.

But after having my eyes closed for about 5 seconds I shot up in my sleeping bag. The ending of the movie Dumb and Dumber always bothered me. Like why didn't they just get on the model bus?

I'll just go next door for a few more minutes. What's the worst that could happen?