Friday, April 30, 2010

An Invasion of My Sacred Place.

[This picture is not mine, I found it on google images]

So now that I've told the initial story of Burro Creek, you might see how much I love it. I don't know how well I conveyed this in my last story, but Burro Creek holds a spot in my heart with memories that no one can ruin.
Well... almost no one.

      My freshman year of high school my family and I moved back to Arizona for some odd reason. I began to date a guy, Mario, who had loved me since first grade. I decided to give him a chance because, well, he loved me since first grade!
This guy turned out to be the exact opposite of what I wanted or should have even gotten involved with, but stories explaining that are for another time. This story is about the time I stupidly invited him along with my family and myself on a camping trip to my beloved Burro Creek.

Oh where to begin.
I was on the phone one evening, listening to him talk about how much he loved me. I wanted to care, but I just didn't. I kind of felt bad about it, and so a stupid thought popped into my head.
"Hey Mario, would you like to come with me on a camping trip?"
"YEAH! THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!" (caps to emphasize his over-excited enthusiasm)
"Okay, let me go ask my parents."
I think I asked just to make him feel good, I did not really want him to come on this trip. I also thought my parents would object, him being my boyfriend with raging hormones, and me being their innocent daughter. To my surprise they said it would be a great idea.
At that moment I knew it was a horrible idea.
We picked him up at his house. He got in the car and insisted on sharing my headphones while I listened to my CD player (which was meant to help tune him out). He smelled gross and he wanted to put his arm around me. This was going to be a long night.

We got to camp and I jumped out of the car, taking a seat near the fire while Mario and my dad set up camp. He thoughtfully brought a Johnny Cash CD. I despise Johnny Cash and my dad loves him, so of course it was played loudly and sung loudly by both of them. My stomach churned, I looked to my mom for help and she just shrugged and looked at me with pity.
'Whyy did I do this to myself?' I groaned internally.

The night passed with little to no events. I sat as far away from him and as close to my mom as possible.
I climbed into the tent shared with my sister and went to sleep.
I woke up to him "tickling" my feet; this did not go over well. Then his soot covered hand grabbed my favorite pillow and began to playfully beat me with it. I glared at him angrily and tried to rescue my pillow, but the soot left a nasty hand print.
We all ate breakfast prepared by Dad and got ready for our hike down to the creek for a swim. When I arrived at the creek I jumped in and swam to the other side where Sarah, my sister, and I took refuge on a ledge only big enough for two.
We stayed there for awhile, keeping our distance from him.

After awhile I decided to explore downstream. I was hoping to sneak away and be alone for awhile, but nothing escaped his eyes. He followed me as I waded through the shallow part of the creek. I realized this and picked up my pace hoping to lose him. I went around a bend, got back on the shore, and made my way back through the trees and shrubs.
Not good enough, he was still there. This pissed me off more, so I began to run in bare feet across the scorching sand and from shady spot to shady spot. He thought this was a game, so he chased me all the way back to my families spot next to the creek.

Surely he couldn't be missing all the signs! It was obvious that I did not want him there!
I hated myself for inviting him.

We started to pack up our things to head back. I had just dried myself off when he grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at me. It landed on my arms and face. By this time I was extremely pissed. I grabbed a handful of hot sand and slung it in his face, gave him the evilest glare that I could muster, then tromped back into the water to wash off.
He laughed and dared to venture,
"Hahaha... women!"
to which my not so oblivious dad replied,
"I wouldn't say that if I were you..."
The rest of the day I spent sending glares in his general direction.
On the car ride home he fell asleep and slid onto my shoulder, smelling of everything gross, mouth wide open, causing my anger to flare.
Unfortunately, I was too nice back then to push him off of me onto the floor. If I could do it over again, I would tell him off earlier in the story (or not invite him at all...); but being as it was, I let him rest his grimy head on my shoulder for the first and last time.

Later that evening after dropping him off, he called me from the theaters wanting to know the average "What's up?"
I told him that I did not want to date him anymore, and asked if he was going to be okay.
He very maturely replied,
"Oh yeah, I'm tough, I ride bikes."
I laughed to myself and hung up the phone, knowing very well that he was going to hate me for the rest of his life, or at least for the rest of his high school years.  He deserved to hate me, after all I did invite him on the trip.

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