Cool green bottles and rodent-like behavior.

When I was 11, I won a trip to summer camp for a week. I was just old enough to be grouped with the oldest boys (the 12 and 13 year olds) and did my best to try and ease into what was widely considered to be the ‘cool’ cabin. A year or two isn’t typically even an afterthought in our daily interactions these days but, to an eleven year old, someone who has thirteen years under their belt has undoubtedly already achieved vast wisdom, armpit hair, muscles and earned the coveted title of ‘teen‘. I did fit in well enough and, for the most part, even enjoyed my occasionally awkward time away from home. It was a week full of tipping canoes, listening to AC DC, bumming cigarettes from counselors, and desperately trying to impress girls. (Sorry Mom! It definitely wasn’t a week of fireside kumbaya’s and smores!)

It was just common knowledge by the time Friday rolled around that it was the one night you could get into trouble without worrying about your parents getting called in to get you. After all, they were coming to pick you up the next morning anyways. Me and another boy (the second youngest in the cabin) just assumed we would be included in the planned trek to the far side of camp (a.k.a. where the girls were.) But the two oldest boys had their own agenda - which didn’t include us. I remember it vividly and can still quote him directly to this day: “You're not coming. You guys will just rat us out.”

I was stunned. I mean, I had heard the term before and was definitely aware of its indelible, blacklisting effect but didn’t expect it to be slung so hastily in my direction. I had no intentions of ratting anyone out - I just wanted to go bother 12 year old girls at midnight too! But we were excluded all the same and I was confused and shocked. I never did find out exactly what those two other boys ended up doing that night though I would bet it was pretty 'G rated'. We did ultimately sneak out too but met up with the counselors and sat around a campfire and smoked cigarettes for a few hours…  (which was fine by us because one of them was HOT!)

Anyways… That was what immediately popped into my head last Saturday night when I ratted out some guy. We had swung by a liquor store to get me some Grolsch beer (Grolsch beer is awesome, by the way, and the funky bottle tops are super cool) and I walked in behind a guy who had to have been marinating in something bourbon-esque. It was such a cloud that it stopped being funny and was just plain unpleasant to be enveloped in. Then, after purchasing my imported bottles of Dutch awesomeness, I saw him in the parking lot trying to get his truck started. It had to have been a standard transmission as, unbeknownst to the drunk dude, it was rolling backwards before he got it into gear. And after he then proceeded to make three unsuccessful attempts at finding the exit to the parking lot - I decided it was time to call the cops.

So, I guess those boys were right all along and I do deserve a ‘Scarlet R’ after all. Oddly enough I don’t regret calling 911 (though they did require A PILE of personal info for some reason?!) and, given the same circumstance, would be a rat again. Funny how perspectives can change when you have a little more wisdom, muscles, armpit hair, and have triumphed/endured through the period known as ‘teen’.

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On the work front, it has been a little slow since completing the Bel Air dragster last weekend. The customer was thrilled and that’s always nice (and so is getting a paycheck reminiscent of the days when business was booming a few years ago!) I’ve also made some headway on my personal projects and will be shipping one out in the next day or two here.

My Mad Hatter panel is progressing slowly - but that’s okay. I want to take it slow and try a more ’Michael Calandra’ approach to this one. (If you haven’t heard of him, I definitely recommend looking him up.) I’m working on a way to include the stoner caterpillar and Cheshire cat… Fun and challenging.

Thanks for listening!!! Hope you’ve had a good week.

Rod