melissa i strong

rock climber, writer, photographer, working on life daily

 

 

 

A tale of best friends & the poo

 

 

Yes this just happened.  I'm sitting in my home in Estes Park, just finished training, minding my own business getting some stuff done before work (a very typical day) and I hear the UPS man in the drive.  Thinking it must be a birthday present for Adam I happily receive the package.  Hugh, not a company I recognize, what could it be, I wonder as I open the package and this is what I found.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A bit of background--flashback to Quinn Brett's 30's celebrated in Las Vegas with Jennifer Morse, Karla DuBois, Bronson MacDonald and myself (with guest appearances from Logan and Susan).  Short version--when we check into our Bellagio room that Karla hooked up for us it was dark--we swarm in, put our luggage on the luggage rack, desks and chairs, unfurl our belongings, figure out what to wear and the weekend of fun continues as expected in Las Vegas (including getting my wallet and camera stolen in a club).  Packing to go home quite weary and over Vegas I was in the room with Jen when I notice something under the luggage rack.  Must be a sock or something that fell, I thought as I peer closer.  To my horror, I realize that it is no sock—it’s a pile of poo!  Quite petrified me, Jen and the poo we realize that it had been in there for some time (i.e. it wasn’t us).  Shocked, offended and confused we battle it out with the unhelpful Bellagio staff and happily leave Vegas behind trying to shake off the dirty feeling of the poo (at least I did not sleep on the floor next to it).

 

A little tradition has proceeded this scaring incident--a plastic replica poo has circulated around among us over the years. Initially I received it in a package from the “Bellagio.” Eventually I put it in the  bottom of Jen’s back pack on the top of Mount Ida when I distracted here with a sandwich.  I haven’t see the plastic poo in awhile but after the Hueco Rock Rodeo I got a congratulatory package from non other than Jen--the plastic poo has made it back to me.  I brought it back to Colorado waiting for the right time and moment to pass the poo.  Until today—the game was brought to a new level and mysteriously I cannot find the plastic poo!

 

 

Maybe this is just a way of my friends (who were my first and have since then been my best friends since I moved to Estes in ’96) saying they will miss me as they jet off to Costa Rica while I gear up for six night work week.  Thinking of you Jen, Karla, Quinn and Bronson—still wondering which one of you did this but I have a feeling I know.  “Revenge is mine, quoth she.”