It is a fact of life: peeing on something is simply the act of marking your territory. In fact, it is a legally binding act whereby you claim ownership of said "target." I once set the goal to urinate on every notable landmark in one week at summer camp one year (achievement unlocked). I set a similar goal to excrete liquid waste on every building at Tufts (yep, I pretty much own most of Tufts by now). TONS of well known places and landmarks are now my property (Mason-Dixon line, Tooth of Time in Philmont NM, Half-Dome at Yosemite, Angel's Landing at Zion, Harvard Statue - hahaha there is a picture of Shaq touching the exact location that I peed on, Mississippi River, Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, etc.) And when you camp a lot in scouts, you come to learn that peeing outside is better..... or at least more hilarious.
On this particular camping trip, we were training for our big backpacking trip to Philmont, NM. This campground had PERFECTLY GOOD LEAN-TO's, but our leaders did not allow us to shelter ourselves from the rain because we had to "practice setting up and taking down tents." Bullshit. Out of furious spite, we all decided that the floor of the unoccupied lean-to would be our urinal for the weekend. Whenever any of us had to go, we had to declare that we needed to "use the lean-to," and then we'd go to town. By the end of the camping trip, there literally was a puddle on the floor of this edifice in which other people would use as shelter whilst camping. Yes, world, we had our revenge.
But as we were leaving we realized that a puddle in the middle of the lean-to looked entirely too conspicuous, especially because it hadn't actually rained. In our brilliance, we opted to cover the puddle with a bunch of leaves laying on the ground. I don't know why we thought a pile of soaking wet pee-leaves in the middle of a dry floor looked any better, but we were satisfied. It looked hilarious. Just a empty, bare lean-to with a pile of soaking wet leaves right in the middle of it.
The best part is that as we were driving out of the campground, the rangers stopped us so they could "check the site" to make sure it was clear of trash. Jesus tapdancing Christ. They would immediately find our moist, leafy "gift," and in our minds we assumed that the only possible conclusion a normal human being could come to was that it was a pile of leaves used to hide a steaming puddle of piss that six teenage boys had created in the span of three days in order to get back at their scout leaders for making them set up tents. We thought we were doomed. Waiting in the backseat of the car, the tension was palpable. We were too terrified to utter a single sound; instead we sent each other knowing glances that said "the moment they come back and tell the adults what they've found, we're bolting from this vehicle and running into the woods, starting a new life as forest people, living off the land for the rest of our days." I think one of us may have vomited from the anxiety, I'm not sure. But anyway, the rangers finished their inspection and came back. The adults got out of the cars to make sure everything looked good so we could head home. As they walked back to the cars, we readied myself for the rapid vehicular exodus we were about to make. "Ok, everything looks good." How can this be? DIDN'T THEY SMELL THE PILE OF SOPPING WET LEAVES IN THE LEAN-TO??? I was flabbergasted. "Yeah, all they found was a plastic wrapper." Oh thank the heavens, we were off the hook. I am sure that we only got out of that by the skin of our teeth and by the fact that these rangers clearly don't have it all going on upstairs to have missed it.
"They said they found some wet leaves in one of the lean-to's, but it must have been the wind that blew them up off the ground."
"Heh.... heh... yeah. Probably. Just drive."
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