One day after a thorough reading of my manuscript, our little writing club grabbed a picnic lunch and headed into the wilderness. We drove and drove and drove and drove--admiring lovely wild flowers, rugged mountain peaks, ranch land populated with beef cattle and the sky miles closer than the one we see back home. We reached the top of a peak in a state park and pulled over near a picnic table. Another car was parked near by and clouds threatened our party. Thunder rumbled and sudden shocks of lightening had us agreeing to eat our picnic in Lauren's Subaru (a fine vehicle, but not built for 5 ladies to lunch in).
Three of us had bladders ready to burst and I suggested we follow a trail that led down the mountain--"Let's just get out of view from that other car and we'll be good to go." Napkins in hand, we started our hike. Glancing back for the fourth time, I was assured of our privacy. We unzipped and crouched and I hollered a caution to everyone, "Make sure your feet are uphill of your butts!" (Peeing outdoors takes a certain finesse.)
There we squatted, doing our business, when a huge SUV rumbled past us. The secluded hiking path? Led downhill to a great view of the main road--and everyone driving by had a great view of three of us mooning.
I'm sure if I had any Girl Scout badges, that would've been avoided, but we wouldn't have ripped our guts laughing.
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