This past weekend I went to the Stars game (this has little to no bearing on what happened, I just figured you wanted to know) with Bill and Harmony. We had fun, and after we got back, I left with Sierra, J, Julia, Mike, and Joe to go to the Lakehouse.
The ride up was, well, eventful. I cannot really tell you a time that our group was not eventful. The weather was not sure what it wanted to be. I would drive 40 mph, then speed back up when the rain decided it no longer wanted to fall.
So we get to the lakehouse and pile out of the car into the house.
I give the grand tour of the lakehouse (all of five minutes, if that). Whilst it is still daylight I ask if we want to go down to the lake. The answer is no. Everyone wants to just hang out, and settle in before we go adventuring.
Just before dark everyone decides to go adventuring. For those who do not know, the lakehouse is in the middle of nowhere. For serious. Even though there are houses around it, they don't count.
So we go for a little hike. I know the way to the lake. You go down the road until it deadends into the lake. Simple. Direct. Safe.
The others get distracted by a small, obscure trail that lead to the lake. This wouldn't have been that big of a deal except that it's almost dark, and by the time we decide to leave, we have walked down the beach, and could not find the original way back if we wanted to.
So another adventure is before us-how do we get back to the house? I know that if we go around the bend that we will eventually get to the road-the safe way home. We follow these tiny trails, all the while the light is growing more dim, our field of vision ever so slowly fading. This normally wouldn't bother me. Except for the fact that there are mountain lions and other carnivorous animals about. Never actually seen one, but we've seen footprints-evidence of them, if you will.
So we continue trekking home on these trails that grow more narrow the longer we trudge onward. Our group is not even cohesive. Mike is almost running at the front of the group. Sierra is next to me. Julia is in the middle, making sure Joe and J didn't fall too far behind and get eaten.
Eventually we see lights (they are across the lake). So we find more lights, and end up in the backyard of a house. I realize that this is the house with blue shutters and hearts. This is the road that leads home! We ever so slowly (and as uncreepily as possible) walk out of the woods, into the clearing, around the house, and down the road to the Lakehosue.
It's pictch black by now. Joe says, 'hey, let's have a fire'
The rest of the house agrees and thinks this is a fantastic idea. We get the 55-gallon barrel from the back yard, gather sticks and leaves, and begin the festivities.
Things are going swimmingly, we are enjoying the warmth of the fire until it starts to go down. I grab the rake to gather some leaves. I lean over to pick up the leaves, and throw them in the fire.
Two entire minutes go by, and I think to myself, "Why hasn't anyone texted me? That's odd."
So I begin to pat my pockets, my jeans, and look around for Chester. I know that I just had him. I know we had conversed not even five minutes prior. Everyone notices me starting to panic and ask what I'm looking for. I tell them I can't find Chester. They ask questions like, "Did you take him inside? Did you set him on the table? Is he in your pocket?"
I love them all dearly, but seriously? I think I would have remembered taking him inside, and why would I let him leave my side when people are talking to me?!? I'm a social creature, and incredibly dependent on my phone.
That's when I realize what happened.
Chester had fallen out of my jacket pocket when I leaned over, onto the pile of leaves, and INTO THE FIRE.
No one believes me. For silly reasons, like (1) no one heard anything fall into the fire (2) don't cell phone batteries explode if they're put into a fire (3) you would have noticed if you threw your phone into the fire.
Well, (1) Chester's fall (out of my pocket and into the fire) was cushioned by a large pile of leaves. that lessens the clank of metal against plastic (2) has anyone ever thrown a cell phone battery into the fire? What are you basing your information on? what do you know about batteries exploding? (3) i apparently didn't.
To calm my nerves (really just to confirm my epic fail) I grab two pitchers of water and douse the fire. I feel bad for ruining everyone's fun, but I just have to know if Chester has met his maker. So I put out the fire, and am so upset with myself that I kick the barrel over and kick it up to the porch to see with what little light we have. I don't know what I'm going to do if Chester is in the fire. I know he won't be alive. I now that if he is, in fact, in the barrel, he is forever gone, and all of his secrets will be taken to the grave with him. So I get a shovel from the shed and start digging out all the debris that I can. Chester is not in the barrel.
So we begin scouring the ground. Searching for him. Joe tries calling him, but I keep him on silent/vibrate because I get enough calls/texts to annoy people within days with a ringtone/alert. So calling him does nothing. That's when Joe picks something up and throws it down.
I instantly know what he found. Chester, well, his body but not his soul. Chester is a brick of melted plastic and metal. He is not even recognizable.
Then starts the response of the video that I am sure most of you have seen. Everyone tells me that I can say whatever I want. No one will judge me for the words that leave my mouth during this trying time.
I was silent. Because I just could not fathom the words that would adequately reflect my emotions. Eddie Izzard touched on this concept. We overuse a lot of words. "It's awesome." "Awesome?" "Yes, awesome like a billion hot dogs." Do you see? There was nothing that I could say to engulf what I was feeling. And I could not bring myself to utter any words of ill-fame because...well, as much as it was a big deal, I just wasn't THAT upset about it. More than I couldn't find words for Chester, I couldn't have found words for how shallow and pathetic I would have felt for uttering such obsenities because I threw my phone into a fire.
But I digress. I am sure most of you have seen the video of me yelling. My last statement is "I blame Val (Mike's phone, who died also, because he throws her all the time)."
Another side note-I am EXTREMELY glad that I did not yell anything, as they told me to do because Joe was filming. I am sure that would have been a viral video, at least for the UMHB campus anyway. "Hey, have you seen the video where Alanna loses it because she therw her phone in the fire? What a fantastic example she is!?!"
Again, I digress. I realize what a blessing in disguise this all is within five minutes. Why? How could this be a good thing, you ask?
During this entire evening what we fail to remember is my comment on the way through Whitney "Hey, guys, there's a burn ban in effect." Evidenced by a big red sign with white letters that states 'BURN BAN IN EFFECT.'
Not even five minutes after I douse the fire, a fire truck drives down our road. To enforce the burn ban. But there's not a fire anymore. And so we scramble to put the barrel back behind the shed, and sweep the ashes off the porch, and get inside. The fire truck drives down the road and surrounding area for a good ten minutes. They never come and ask questions, and we never go offer any.
The entire time they're in the neighborhood everyone is a little panicky. Especially me. We were almost killed by carnivorous animals in the middle of the woods surrounding Lake Whitney (How do I explain that to a parent? The closest hospital is...I don't know any closer than Waco). I just lost my phone form of communication, and we could get a ticket for burning during a burn ban (pretty hefty).
But they eventually give up searching for a fire that is no longer there. And we watch movies.
I take every opportunity to make a bitter, sarcastic, cutting (and I think funny) remark about not having a phone, and how poetic that my relationship with Chester ended on Valentine's Day.
Later we get in the hot tub. Joe brings his phone out with him. And it ends up getting fried from having its own little party in a puddle of water in the cup holder of the hottub. Three phones down, three to go. But J's is already on the fritz-sometimes it's deaf. Sierra's is losing its battery. Julia's, well, hers is fine.
So we get up the next day, and when we're heading out, I tell everyone we have to take the trash to town. Can't leave it all week and have terrible things in the Lakehouse. But there's no room in the car or trunk. So Joe decides to hold it out the window. I'm sure you've seen pictures of that, too. And of us illegally putting trash in someone else's dumpster.
Needless to say, I went UNDER the speed limit the entire way home. There's no need to get a speeding ticket on top of all of this.
And THAT, my friends, is what happened to Chester, and why RFOTD were on the fritz, and not up to par this week.
This story is better told in person, but this will have to do for those who do not see me on a regular basis.
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