-----------------------------------"Oh, Alrighhht" -----------------------------
Then we went up and down several flights of steep, man made stairs and traversed many a bridge until we reached the "Garden of Eden," a verdant oasis in the midst of the crimson desert. A few brave souls went for a dip in the chilly watering hole, but I sat this one out (been there, done that -- see my Mona Kea, Hawaii entry).
Bidding farewell to Kings Canyon, we journeyed back to Alice Springs, stopping just long enough to pose for a group photo (We all piled on top of each other, and I [of course] was on the bottom) and eat camel burgers for lunch (Quite tasty, and only two grams of fat!).
Then it was off to the luxurious (not!) Ross River Homestead, our humble home for the next two days. Upon our arrival, I was informed that I had been chosen as one of four captains for the night's much ballyhooed "Outback Olympics" at the infamous Bush Pig Bar (pronounced "baa"). My first duty was to think of a theme for my team. After brainstorming and rejecting several possibilities, I settled on one that seemed both feasible (given the meagre costume supplies available for scavenging) and fun -- Ancient Greece (To-GA, To-GA!!).
My team seemed amenable to the idea, so I turned my creative energies towards inventing a team name and chant. "Alpha Beta Gammas" seemed an obvious choice for our name, and the song just flowed from there:
We're Alpha Beta Gammas,
We have a lot of class.
These toga-wearing Greeks,
Are gonna kick your sorry ass!
(Catchy, if not so subtle or refined)
Now all that was left to do was costuming -- it was time to don our togas. Everyone rendezvoused at my room at 8:00 p.m. outfitted in sandals, shorts and T-shirts (for the ladies). Patrick helped me dress my teammates with the white sheets we had stripped from our beds. Once all the togas were securely pinned, everybody practiced the chant (By the end, even the Japanese speakers among us had it down pat). Then, it was off to the Olympics.
------------------------------------Greek Olympiads---------------------------
It was amusing to see what themes the other teams had come up with. Chris (Stickman) and his crew were dressed as Arabs, replete with towels on their heads, sunglasses and charcoal beards.
------------------------------------Arabian Knights---------------------------
Kelly and her teammates were flower children/hippies, covered in neon "peace and love" tattoos and decked out in 60's duds.
-----------------------------------Flower Power!--------------------------------
Tatsumi went with an Olgas/Valley of The Winds theme -- his entire team was assembled under a patchwork of sheets, the various head bumps forming the domes and a chorus of voices supplying the wind.
--------------------------------Wind Warriors---------------------------------
We took a round of pictures and imbibed a few round of drinks to set the mood. After everyone was well lubricated, Scott made the official announcement: "Let the games begin!"
The first contest was called "The Orange." Out of all the games we played over the course of the evening, this was the only one of which I was previously aware. Each team lined up in a neat little row, and the object was to pass an orange down the line and back again, using only our necks -- the orange is wedged between chin and chest, cradled against the Adam's Apple (Wait a sec -- am I talking apples and oranges here?!). Naturally, this game lent itself to many a tight, intimate hug in our boy-girl lineup. We were on fire during this event, handily crushing the competition. We proudly and loudly boomed out our team chant.
Next up was "Lifesaver." This game involved passing a Lifesaver from one teammate to another via a toothpick between the teeth. Our candy broke halfway down the line, and we were relegated to last place. Bummer!
The next game had the colorful name of "Schlong." Using a water bottle dangling on a string tied to your waist as your schlong, you had to swing said member (once again, without the aid of your hands) in such a way as to push an orange across the floor to a teammate waiting on the other side of the room. This player would then tie on the titular tool and roll the orange back again to another teammate, and so on. We came in last place again. Yikes!
The fourth event was called "Kitty Licker," and surprisingly, it was the only one which specifically revolved around alcohol (though, naturally, many of us had been drinking in between challenges). The object of this twisted game was to lick a full can of beer out of a bowl, lying flat on your stomach, with your arms crossed behind your back and your legs crossed and lifted off the floor. Three people (2 males and 1 female) had to go from each team. Despite my hesitation, I volunteered for one of the slots, because my team consisted of a large number of Teetotalers, necessitating my participation. I ended up going first for my team, and I soon regretted my involvement. I had only sucked back half the can before I felt viciously nauseous. I sensed the vomit building up and churning in my belly, knowing at any moment I was going to chunder. Somehow, I managed to cap off the rising gorge right at the back of my throat (although I think a tad may have drooled out) and finish the beer. Never again, I vowed as I scrambled to the bar, taking deep breaths and trying to contain my dinner. (Editor's note: As bad as my experience was, it didn't hold a candle to Judd's. His stomach was not as strong as mine, and he spewed right into his bowl. The rules stipulated that the bowl must be emptied before the next player can go, so Judd's teammates actually forced him to slurp up the remaining liquid, puke and all.) Tiffany followed me, and then Patrick (who wasn't a drinker, so he licked up a can of Coke -- which, with all the carbonation, was arguably tougher to down than beer). When the smoke cleared, we had captured third place, and I was well on my way to liver poisoning. Not worth it!
The fifth game was called "Gopher," and involved each team's biggest guy and smallest girl in one of most hilarious races I've ever witnessed. Laying underneath the guy, the girl has to wrap her arms and legs around her teammate, who then scrambles on all fours from one side of the room to the other, carting the girl around like a mother possum carries her baby. We took a respectable second place.
Next up was a challenge whose name eludes me, but it involved cramming a quarter up your anus, clenching your butt cheeks, shuffling over to a can on the floor and releasing the coin ("bombs away!"). For every quarter that landed in the can, the team received one point. We managed to drop 7 out of 11 coins into the can (the top score). Scott acknowledged our winning performance and declared that my teammates and I had the tightest asses on the tour.
Now it was time for the Tug-O'-War, a contest my team was regretting from the beginning because we were minus one guy (Luciano having bowed out). We pulled and struggled, struggled and pulled (mostly struggled), and lost the first round quite quickly. We barely had time to catch our breath before being pitted against the other losing team in the consolation match, where we would attempt to stave off a last place finish. We switched up the order of our team line-up and tried again. We suffered serious rope burns (I got a nasty one under my left armpit) and were twice almost pulled over the brink, but somehow we managed to bear down both times and yank bank, eventually pulling ourselves to victory. Never did third place taste so sweet.
After seven events, all four teams were locked in a virtual tie, so the wise judges (Scott and Carl) announced that the winner of the final contest ("The Broom") would be crowned Olympic Champion. This last game involved holding a broom up to your nose and spinning around a dozen times as fast as you could, dropping the broom, and instantly jumping over it without falling. Scott decided that it would only be fitting if the captains themselves battled it out. Oh great, I thought as I rubbed my "Kitty Licked" stomach, which was only just now starting to settle down. Oh well, nothing could be done for it -- I was the captain, plain and simple, and I couldn't let down my team after all our efforts. Still, basing the ultimate outcome of this competition solely upon my vestibular fortitude was a big responsibility for me and my inner ear. Stickman went first and immediately relieved some of my anxiety: he fell flat on his face, without even attempting a jump. Kelly went next. She daintily hopped over the broom and landed successfully, but as she had failed to hold the broom against her face while spinning and took a major pause before jumping, she received some "reductions." Tatsumi was third, and he awed the crowd with a brilliant display. He zipped around the broom like a Whirling Dervish (way too fast), dropped it and jumped right over (true, he fell on his ass almost as soon as his feet touched the ground, but the amazed judges accepted it). This left me, and I admit I was somewhat daunted by the display I had just witnessed, not to mention a lingering awareness of the onerous burden of carrying the weight (and fate) of the team on my shoulders. I gave it my best shot: spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin-spin . . . drop . . . jump . . . stable landing. All in all, it was a good effort -- not as electrifying as Tatsumi's attempt, but my technique was solid and I was the only one who abided by the rules without falling. My team cheered for me and slapped my back, praising the performance. They knew it was good, too. But would it be enough?
No, as it turned out . . . but it was close. Tatsumi (alias, The Broom King), was just too good for me. The judges declared him the winner and The Olgas claimed victory. But we did manage to take the "Silver Medal" and have a fun time doing it!
I told my team how proud I was of them and we congratulated each other all around. We all agreed to go change into something more substantial and then return to the bar for more merriment. On my way out, Paola (a fetching lass from Holland) approached me and said in her Dutch accent, "You know, you look very sexy in that toga." Homana-Homana-Homana, I thought, doing my best internal Ralph Kramden impression. Externally, I didn't quite know how to respond. "Thank you," was all I managed to stammer. "I think everyone will remember the way you look tonight," Paola continued. I didn't know about that, but I was certainly glad that she had noticed. I quickly exited the bar before I said something stupid and destroyed the moment.
As soon as I changed, I returned to the Bush Pig to dance the night away. This was definitely the wildest night of revelry thus far. Everyone moshed and slam danced (I accidentally knocked over Rachel at one point and stepped on her hand -- I hope she's alright), swung from the rafters (literally), danced on the bar and took diving leaps off the tables into the waiting arms of drunken friends. Tiffany, Donna and I danced to "Mr. Vain" about 30 times. Eventually, I was smoke-logged and just plain plumb tuckered out. I walked back to the bunkhouse with Paola, with whom I had conversed most of the evening. A more confident man would have openly flirted with her or attempted a kiss, but being the awkward sort I usually am, I just said goodnight and slipped off to sleep.
1 comment:
Oh, I did NOT read this one! *gasp* You on that ledge. I'm weak in the knees just looking at it. EEPS!
I hope you were being sarcastic about the singing talent. I can sing, but that was horrible!!! hahahah. Someday I will be brave enough to share my singing (the real belting out a song thing) on my blog. hahahahah
The song is actually on a CD my kids got of Children's Songs.
I forgot you's a Kindygahten Teacha... Tell me something... please, what skills would you prefer most kids who enter K have already? (I'm homeschooling my son preschool and I'm worried I'm not doing it 'right'.. he goes to K in the fall)
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