HOR: Wuddup my bitches and hoes, it’s your nigga Horea here to update you guys on our little adventure. We be chillin’ in a motel room just outside of Yellowstone. Word. Anyways, let me catch you guys up. Shiiiiiiiit—where to start? After our two-day stay in Seattle, we headed east for Spokane, the town of Gonzaga. We drove almost all day, and stopped at an incredible sandwich place called Jimmy John's. I really wish they had that in Cali ‘cause that place is the In-N-Out of sandwiches. If you guys see one, go. After our dinner, we started searching for our future campground, a task much harder than expected. We drove around Spokane and went to two different campsites and both were taken. We kept trying to look for other sites but we were stranded. We finally found an open campsite but the gate to the campsite closed at 10. We got there at 10:10. Nice. We decided to try and open the gate by ourselves and we found out it was not locked and a simple push would do the trick. Still unsure of what we were doing, we entered the campground, without seeing a single welcoming campfire. We walked to the camp registration center and out of nowhere a group of slightly overweight 50-something-year-old women shouted at us, “Don’t walk near here anymore.” Quite a menacing first impression. We were quick to explain that we were only searching for a place to stay the night, and their attitudes quickly changed. “If you guys need a place, you can pitch your tent next to ours and pretend to be our nephews.” Pretty weird, but we needed a place to stay so we accepted the offer. We started setting up our shit and they started engaging us in conversation. “Where are you guys from? How old are you guys? Where are you headed?” They even offered us their s’mores. We were all a little taken aback with the recent change in attitude, but still decided to indulge in some s’mores. After a few minutes, the conversation switched to their teenage years, and of their experiences with acid and shrooms. What the hell? These women were old enough to be our moms. Feeling more comfortable around these women, we started to find out more about them and learn that they were all pretty crazy in their teenage years. They would go to acid and shroom parties, and everybody would be absolutely out of this world high. This would be a birthday party...
It was only a matter of time before we learned they were under the influence of not only alcohol, but marijuana as well. One of these women (we didn’t get any of their names), would reserve this campsite every year and invite a couple close friends to drink and smoke for a weekend. With all this talk of drugs, it was inevitable that they would offer us some of their narcotics. The pipe started going around the campfire and the s’mores were going faster than ever. They claimed this was their twentieth bowl of the day (I do not believe this at all, but who knows, they were some pretty crazy women). We conversed with them late into the night, discussing everything from arts and culture to the effects of various narcotics. Around 12:30 we decided we had had enough; it was time for bed. Only when we woke up the next morning did we fully realize what had happened: we had been smoked out by 50-year old moms. The next morning, they still treated us with hospitality, offering us their food. We returned the favor by buying them wood and ice, and thanked them for letting us stay with them. My only regret is that we did not get a picture with them.
Hor out.
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