The Camping Chronicles: Burning the German, Part III

When it was finally time to break camp and head home, The Wife and I attempted to extinguish our campfire; this is Oregon, after all, and we are good, responsible campers. It’s not like we had wholesale disregard for Oregon’s  Severe Weather Alert — or its no-campfires policy throughout the summer months in general — it’s just that we like to do whatever the hell we want.

So we hoisted our cooler — now half-full of water from the melted ice we’d purchased — and dumped it directly onto the coals of the fire. Apparently we were dealing with the grumpiest fire of all time, because it erupted with steam and Old Faithfulled all over my wife’s hands. Now, I am not generally opposed to hot liquids shooting all over beautiful women, but we all know how dangerous steam can be. Luckily, she got away with pink skin and a blister. Score.

How could I have been so stupid as to dump water directly onto hot coals? I don’t know; I’ve been burned at least three times the same way, and the fires just can’t seem to learn this simple lesson. I guess they’re just doomed to repeat it, the stupids.

Anyway, after burning her 3 different ways during the course of our camping trip, I decided to apologize by buying my wife a peanut butter burger and a 34 ounce stein of beer at Calamity Jane’s in Sandy, Oregon. The burger and the beer were bigger than my wife’s head — and they were awesome — but she could not remember the name of the restaurant as we drove home.

I told her it was Saran Wrap Jake’s.

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