A. & I hit Wrightsville Reservoir today. I think this was our third time paddling there but the first time we managed to find our way down to the waterfall…:
See the whole set in my Flickr stream… Honorary mentions that didn’t make the highlight reel: my pseudo-panoramic of the falls and our “vessel inspection” badge, which carries with it the following story:
Right as we were getting ready to leave the Reservoir, a bunch of State Police (Parks & Rec?) show up. As we finish securing the kayaks to the roof, one of the officers strolls over. I’m 99% certain that what he said was: “Would you like a free safety inspection?” And seeing as how we were leaving and hungry for lunch I politely declined: “No thanks, we’re all set.” Without missing a beat, he replies: “Well you’re going to get one anyway.”
Fortunately for us, all we needed to do was prove that we had a PFD each. (No problems there…) We were rewarded with these stickers which are like get-out-of-jail-free cards for our kayaks for 2006.
Of course, my first thought was: “I should get one for my record crate, too!”
Now, time for lemonade and packin’…
We’re staying in a hotel for the competition. Instead of large conference rooms, this hotel has a giant courtyard. We’re one of a couple dozen teams competing to build a Tower of Babel out of Legos. Ours mostly works so far. If you stand under, you instantly know any of a dozen languages. It’s a good start and we’re way ahead of anyone else. But we’ve run out of red bricks and somehow I know that’s the key to getting this thing to work on French. (One of my teammates has suggested that Dutch is close enough but we both know deep down that the rules don’t allow “close enough”.) When I take a break, I’m accosted by a group of young black men. They accuse me of being a racist, referencing something that I’ve allegedly said. They take off before I can retort. They’ve got it twisted up somehow; I didn’t say exactly what they think of said and they’ve taken it all out of context regardless. I go from floor to floor trying to find them but they’ve disappeared for all I can tell. And every floor’s layout is different depending on whether you reach it by elevator or the stairs. From the top floor, the courtyard is a brilliant myriad of colors reaching skyward. On my way back down, I stumble across a kid who has my brother’s face but a preposterously obese body. They’re leaving in the morning (he and his corpulent crew) because they can’t get their tower to translate anything. Back at the front desk, I ask the concierge if she’s seen the kids young men that had accused me of being a racist. She doesn’t want to help me (taking their side without even knowing what it was I’d supposedly said!) and I find myself trying to explain my position, defend myself. It’s all without warrant!
