13 August 2008
95. The Antagonist
“Hey, L&F, are you ready to get to work?”
“Yep.”
“OK, here’s the problem. We have circle in an hour and we don’t have any more fresh ice. I need you to collect all the coolers and get all the ice water out of them. We can chill the down-down beer with that.”
Any good story needs an antagonist. And the antagonist this time around is beer. Not warm down-down beer. Ice-cold beer that’s already been consumed by many fine hashers at a long campout weekend.
It’s late Saturday afternoon and people are quite drunk, and have been drunk for quite some time. So what’s wrong with that? Well, at a campout, there are people who need to stay sober to make sure things run smoothly. And during most campouts, the huge amount of beer inside some people and the extreme lack of beer inside the organizers can bring out an even worse antagonist: DRAMA.
Let’s watch how this mess plays out, picking up where the organizer delegated the beer duties. I’m on the case, and things are happening. But all of a sudden, a group of people full of our antagonist enter the fray:
“Hey, L&F, do you need help?”
“Nah, I’m cool.”
“Well, we can help you move those coolers.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m OK.”
“No, you’ll just mess up your back. Come on.”
I don’t have a problem delegating. But sometimes, especially when I’m lacking any traces of our antagonist, I’m better-served doing things myself. Why? Let’s keep going:
“OK, here’s what I need. We need to move all the coolers over there near the food and the kegs. The goal is to NOT spill any ice or ice water. I desperately need all the ice and all the water.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to chill the down-down beer.”
“When is circle?”
“Maybe in an hour.”
“An hour? Jesus, I’m starving. When’s dinner?”
“I don’t remember. They look like they’re on time though, so look at a schedule.”
“Where are they?”
“In your giveaway bag.”
“My giveaway bag is in my tent. Didn’t you guys hang any around camp?”
Note that the questions have started. And in case you haven’t noticed before, questions breed more questions. It’s like a spreading virus.
“Yes, we posted some. But they got torn down last night because people felt the urge to stick them up their asses and light them for naked fire jumping.”
“Hey, L&F… is there beer in that cooler?”
“Yeah, hang on though. Let us get them over here.”
“Aren’t we having circle soon?”
The virus has spread.
“Yes. Soon. OK guys, thanks. I’ll take over from here.”
“What are you going to do now? We’ll help.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll bang this out in a couple minutes.”
“What, you don’t think we’re GOOD ENOUGH to touch beer? Elitist!”
The virus also morphs as it spreads. Add ridicule to the questions.
“L&F is a beer snob. Hey, L&F, do you hold your pinkie up when you lift a bottle to your elitist mouth?”
“Guys, you can go now. Thank you. You’ve been marvelous.”
“No, we’ll help. What do you need?”
More morphing. Add my favorite part: You’re Doing All the Work Wrong Syndrome.
“There are three empty coolers somewhere in this pile. I need all the water in one, all the soda in another, and all the beer in the last one.”
“Why can’t we just leave everything in the coolers they’re in now?”
“Because I need the ice and the ice water out of each one.”
“Well, then let’s just dump the water out into the empty coolers.”
“No, I need the water and the trapped ice. And you’ll spill some. Please.”
“Here L&F, watch how easy this is.”
Morph. Add problems. And the realization that I would have been done 5 minutes ago if I had done this myself.
“Stop! You’re spilling the water. Why doesn’t everyone just grab a beer and go play with sharp objects?”
“L&F, don’t be that way. I still don’t think we need to separate the water and soda from the beer. Just leave a mix in each cooler.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get done.”
“Here, I’m done with my cooler.”
“No! Don’t dump the water out! I need it all!”
“Why?”
Now I’ve caught the virus. I’m frustrated and getting angry. Frustrated and angry would be the final piece before DRAMA starts. I try to get done while watching things unravel. People keep sitting on the coolers and I have to kick them off every time I need one. People keep unstacking the empty coolers I’ve stacked up because they’re looking for beer. Someone’s washing their muddy hands in the only ice water I’ve been able to collect so far. One of the hashers who has been coming up behind me and dry-humping me all day has now returned… grinding on me and screaming something about dirty ass-sex. I get hit with a water balloon. DRAMA in 3… 2… 1…
“Hey! Just walk away. Thank you very much for your help.”
“What? What did we do? Jesus Christ.”
“Just leave. Please. Walk over there and I’ll finish.”
“Why do you have to get this worked up? It’s just beer. Damn.”
“I’m not worked up. I just need to get this done. I’m doing what I’m told.”
“What are you doing?”
“Please guys. Stop.”
“Come on, drink a beer and have some fun. What’s wrong with you? Hey, what’s wrong with L&F? Is there beer in that cooler? Grab one. When’s circle?”
“OK, out! Leave! Everyone!”
This is the part that I dread. Having to loudly crack the whip. It happens when I get pushed to my personal limit, and I know that all the conflict-resolution tricks I’ve learned at my job won’t help. To make matters worse, I look really mean when I’m angry, and despite my lack of height, I’ve been known to make people slightly uncomfortable on the rare times I get pissed. Again, I’m blaming beer. And there’s always that one special person who has consumed more of our antagonist than anyone else. This person does NOT like being told what to do, and is far from being disturbed by my sudden frightening demeanor. In fact, they become a little patronizing and condescending. Here’s how it unfolds:
“L&F. Just calm down.”
“I was calm. Now everyone has to go.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t we stand here?”
“I’m taking no more questions. I don’t understand why this is so difficult for everyone. The longer you feel the need to pester me, the longer it will take to get circle started.”
“Pestering? We were HELPING you!”
I can do nothing but turn around and ignore everyone and hope they stay back. But now I get to hear the comments amongst themselves, because they feel the need to talk within earshot.
“We were fucking HELPING and he yells at us? What the fuck?”
“Just come on. He’s just in a crappy mood for some reason.”
“Asshole.”
“Why does he volunteer for this if he can’t handle it?”
“Just leave him alone. He’ll be OK.”
“A monkey can do that job.”
“Now he’s got all the beer.”
The group finally shuffles out of ear shot and some of them look like they’re moping. One of the hashers feels guilty and comes back to apologize.
“Hey man, sorry about that. I know you’re just trying to do your job.”
“Don’t worry about it. It happens.”
“Here, let’s pour the ice water into a new cooler that doesn’t have all that dirt in it. We can use this one.”
I’m done talking, so I just do what he suggests. The organizer walks up and notices that the new cooler we just poured the water in has no drain cap, and the only ice water at camp is now pouring all over the ground.
“L&F. Holy shit, you’re losing all the water. I’m glad to see you can handle your one single job of the evening.”
I start laughing. Because there’s nothing else I can do. I laugh because I’m sober. I laugh because of the stupidity of it all. And I laugh because I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve seen this exact same scenario play out. It’s priceless. So why do I bother helping? I grab some of our antagonist and remember why: the exact same reason everyone else does. We do it for the beer. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Alcohol: The Cause and Solution to All of Life’s Problems.
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 6:15 PM 
