And Through the Gator-Infested Swamps Go the Girl Scouts

Scenic, perhaps. But you don't care about scenery when it's in the 90s.

Like an idiot, I told my wife awhile back that I 'wouldn't mind' chaperoning a hike with Alayna's Daisy troop.  Stuff like that just spills out of my frickin' mouth and I don't even think about it. . . then, weeks later, when I'm looking forward to a nice quiet day off of work, I'm reminded that I have to get up and around and take my kid on a stupid hike with the girl scouts.

Awesome.

I envisioned a boring stroll through the woods. . . which, in view of what actually transpired, would have been amazing.  No, we were all in for one hell of a forced march through swamp country, under a blazing sun with no sunscreen or bug repellant to be found.

Behold:

Our troop wasn't the only troop to be hiking this trail this afternoon - there were at least a half-dozen others - so they split up all the girls and hodge-podged them up into random groupings of six, led by a high school-aged girl scout and accompanied by an adult.  This meant I would be spending the next few hours walking through the wild with the Cannonball, five random first-graders from other Daisy troops, and some high school chick.  Cowabunga.

Walkway over the previously-shown river.  About 1/4 of this hike was through the woods, and that part was decent (mostly due to the shade.)

I brought up the rear to ensure we didn't have any stragglers. . . such as the blonde girl shown here.  If there's a marching line to be formed, you can always spot Alayna in the back (by a ways) dragging her feet and looking bored.

I was pissed Alayna and I were rushed out the door prior to this hike - we were both running late - and consequently neither of us put on sunscreen or insect repellant.  Not that the bugs were that bad, but I would eventually catch a tick in Alayna's hair towards the end of this hike.  And those assholes carry diseases. 

This is where things took a turn for the worst.  We followed the trail through the woods until it came out into a clearing, where there was a wooden bridge (see above.)  Much to my dismay unbridled horror, we instead hung a left and proceeded to walk the other way. . .

. . . for about two miles, underneath power lines, with nothing but clear sky above of us and swamps to either side.  Thank God it was in the 90s and 100% humidity. . .

Some local wildlife.  I'm not a birdologist, so I'm not sure what we're looking at, here.

Resilient to the last, she refused to put her hair up, despite the fact it was matted to the back of her neck with the heat.  After awhile, she wanted me to carry her, which, based on the circumstances, is entirely believable.

A Zebra.  As we all know, indigenous to Florida.  There was some kind of scavenger hunt the girls were supposed to do along the hike (looking for things that began with different letters of the alphabet, hence the 'Z'ebra), but everyone was too sweaty, tired and miserable to participate, so the high school girl scout more or less just talked to herself.

. . . then we ran into this guy.  About fifteen or twenty feet off to the left of the path, with nothing but grass separating it from a slow-moving, uncoordinated group of six-year-olds.

My plan from the get-go was, if this 7 foot-long beast were to charge, I'd kick the high school-aged girl scout directly into the creature's path, scoop up Alayna, and run like hell.  Fortunately, it didn't come to that, and the alligator just glared at us as we walked by.  Another chaperon - some stupid soccer mom - quipped, "It's probably more scared of us than we are of it."  I seriously doubt it, lady.  I seriously doubt it.

Trees down here look weird.

The Forced March of the Daisies continues. . . all we need to do is replace the power lines with helicopters and  swap the girl scout vests for M-16s and this would look like something out of Vietnam.

See the kid in the blue headscarf?  She bitched the whole time about having to pee. . . so I suggested she pee in the tall grass,  only to watch out for alligators like the one we saw before.  She eventually stopped complaining.

Bringing up the rear.  As usual.

After walking a couple miles under Florida's merciless sun, we veered off to the right down a little two-track trail. . .

This is where the different troops would participate in an arts and crafts activity, drink some water, have a snack, an awkward pee break in the tall grass (I had no hand in helping out with that one), and heading back.  As a welcoming gesture, what could only have been a bunch of teenagers had left a slew of cheap beer cans and empty cigarette packs strewn about the place.  Which was pretty cool of them.

Alayna and her partner-in-crime, Holly, representing the blue-vested 1311s among a bunch of other random kids.

Seriously.  This looks like shit straight out of a Dinosaur book.  What the hell, Florida?!

Making 'binoculars.'  For spotting wildlife, fauna, and fellow Daisy scouts gypsy-squatting among the tall grass after drinking too much apple juice. . .

A bunch of the girls - my eldest included - decided it'd be cool to 'spy' on the other girls taking a piss.  'Cause that's totally appropriate for kids to do.

Exploring

Emulating the L.A.P.D.

Heading back.  Finally.

Funned.  Out.

Peril afoot.

After hours and hours of trudging through swamp country, we once again crossed back onto the bridge leading back into the woods. . . and the shade.

Crossing back over the river on our way out of the woods. . .

Rewards for valor.

To top off this not-quite magical morning, once we had been given the go-ahead to leave, Alayna and I grabbed some Slurpees (a mandatory purchase, at that point), and headed home.  We both wanted nothing more than to change out of our sweaty-ass clothes, take a shower, and then lie on the couch and watch TV all afternoon (before heading over to the Voigts' house for dinner - friggin' plans. . .)

But, NO.  When we got back, Kris was hilt-deep in total chaos - our house was flooded with buyers and their agents, walking around through our house, asking questions, and handing out business cards.  We had no choice but to stand out in the front yard and let people have their tours. . . but I'll talk more about that whole house-selling episode later.

Just rest assured that the last thing I wanted to do after stumbling under the sun for three hours was stand in my front yard and wait for people to leave my house.

Under the sun.

- Brian