I went down, down, down and the flames went higher

Last night was "Guy's Night Out." At least that's what it was termed in the email I got a few weeks ago that was announcing our little trip to the desert (of course, being that I don't currently have a girlfriend one could argue that any night I go and do something could be given that same title, but I digress). A bunch of guys from the department went out to Valley of Fire to celebrate the end of the semester. Yes, professors and grad students look forward to finals being over every bit as much as undergraduates do.

We left mid-afternoon so that we could beat rush hour traffic, but in our haste to get on the road, I forgot to tell my friend to stop at a convenience store so I could pick up some snacks. Luckily, there is an Indian casino/fireworks stand right where you get off the freeway to head toward the park, so we stopped there before heading out to the camp site.

We arrived at the perfect time of day as we had a great view of the valley, and there was plenty of daylight left for climbing around on the rocks and getting stuff going on the grill. It turned out to be a total sausage fest, and not just because it was all dudes, almost everyone had bratwurst to grill. We were able to watch the moon rise while we ate dinner. That's always a good thing.

Needless to say, there was mass alcohol consumption throughout the evening (at least for everyone but me, I don't drink). Rest assured that we did not pick up any fireworks when we stopped on the way to the park. I did not throw any firecrackers onto the coals in the grill to try and startle those who were grilling and continue to do that with the fire throughout the evening. We most certainly did not light off Roman Candles after dark only to have one brightly colored, fiery ball bounce off a rock wall and almost hit a guy who was standing at the base of it. Of course we didn't do that because there are no fireworks allowed in the park so that would have been wrong.

There were some members of the group who started referring to the place as Brokeback Valley. I think that had something to do with the fact that you could overhear comments such as these throughout the night:

"I'm telling you man, after one more beer you're going to start looking pretty good to me."

or,

"Did you bring the sleeping bag?"
"I brought a sleeping bag."
"Are you saying I can't sleep with you tonight?"
"Ok, fine, but I get to be the big spoon."

or,

"Hey, I'm going to lie right down on that cot with you. Don't act like you don't want it."
"Is that the same sweet talk you used to bag your girlfriend?"

And to be completely honest, I ended up with fire in my pants by the end of the night. Not the figurative fire in the pants that I would have had if I were a gay guy overhearing such witty banter, but a literal fire in my pants. Some embers popped out of the fire and went up the leg of my shorts. I burned my leg, and burned my hand when I tried to get it out. Not badly, but enough to cause about a minute of discomfort.

It was a great time. It's fun to be loud and obnoxious until the wee hours of the morning. It's even better when there aren't any other campers nearby, so you don't have to feel too guilty about it. I ended up going to bed around 3 a.m., but unfortunately awoke around 7 when the sun started to cook me in my sleeping bag. Any incoherence in this post can be attributed to lack of sleep, 4 hours doesn't quite cut it for me, but I still can't wait until next time.