Festival scenes aren’t really my thing. Neither Leo or I do grreat in a crowd. There is a big festival in Damascus VA each year called “Trail Days”. It’s a big chaotic festival celebrating hikers. I had meant to skip it. I had no intentions of going. But….
I had found myself in Rural Retreat VA, standing under the I-81. A little over 50 miles earlier I had accidentally poured boiling water on my inner thigh. I had been doing my best to keep it clean but I knew I should have someone look at it. I was in a lot of pain and looking at a map I was only going to get more Rural if I kept hiking and I might not have cell service. As I was trying to figure out whether to keep walking or try to hitch to urgent care a guy in an old mini van pulled up.
“Need a ride?”
“Maybe. Yes. Hmmmm I’m not sure. You know where I’d be able to get medical attention?”
“Yeah hop in!”
As we rolled down the freeway I asked where we were heading.
“Trail Days. They have free medical for hikers.”
So, despite saying I wasn’t going to Trail Days for 500 miles, I ended up at Trail Days. First thing I did was visit the medics who were there to attend to hikers who had ODed. Stoned and black out drunk hikers kept walking by as I sat there in booty shorts with my leg held up by one medic and the other one got in between my thighs to have a look.
They were the most attractive men I have seen in months, and they seemed to have showered recently, so I tried to get my flirt on. Just unbathed and burnt– don’t look for any wedding invitations anytime soon.
The next morning I visited the doctors where I was told I had done a good job keeping it from getting infected (pat on the back) and I was payed out on a couch in a church basement as they dressed my wounds.
So, despite my best efforts I ended up at Trail Days. Full hiker Trash.