One summer in the nineties I found myself, let’s call it location independent in Colorado, a “free spirit” attempting to find something, anything fun to do in the next town over with the next group of friends. I made it to Telluride and was working there for a month or two when a friend of mine, Augustus was his name, told me he’d moved into a big log cabin house about 10 miles outside of town and there was plenty of room for me. His sister and her friend had also moved in and if I came down and talked to the owner (who also lived there) I could probably stay too. Bonus! His sister was super cute and I’d never been inside a log cabin before. I couldn’t say “hell yeah brah” fast enough.
I hitchhiked out there and after schlepping down the mile-long dirt driveway with every ounce of my possessions strapped to my back, I made it to the house. It didn’t let me down. A beautifully woodstained Lincoln Log-type cabin with all the trimmings: patio, woodstove and chainsaw-art grizzly out front. And the coup de fucking gras, a giant bear skin rug in the middle of the living room.
I quickly met the owner, a recluse who’d lived in the four-bedroom house by himself for years. I wasn’t sure how he’d come to be there but his big beard and fierce eyes left me uninspired to ask. His name was Woodrow and I was sure he hated me from the beginning—his stink-eye was unmistakable. But he was a hippie type and those hard-fought morals prevented him from beating my brains in from the very beginning.
I quickly made myself at home, plopped my dirty backpack down in the fourth bedroom and immediately started making plans on how best to hook up with Augusta’s pretty little sister, Athena. She and Star, her close childhood friend, were sharing a bunk-bed in the next room over.
Woodrow, being the quiet outcast that he was, didn’t have a girlfriend and likely thought he’d hit the jackpot when Augusta, Athena and Star moved in for the summer. Images of orgies and sweet sixties-style free love on the bear skin rug could be seen grinding their merry may through his bearded head. With Augusta and Star being long-time friends, nothing would stop him from getting into the pants of the girls with a sudden inability to use the phrase: “I think I’d better go now.”
As you can imagine, his attitude toward me wasn’t surprising when I moved in. You could practically see the guns, axes and crossbones flickering across his corneas. It still didn’t stop me from cozying up to Athena at the breakfast table, on the back patio, in the livingroom and gesturing at her from the bear skin rug. Athena was into it. As far as she was concerned, I was a much better opportunity for a good time than Woodrow, who might as well have been a mental patient.
So it came to pass that Woodrow had to drive down to Albuquerque for the weekend for a car show. It was my moment. Without daddy around we’d be free to get as drunk and debaucherous as we wanted with no one around to make us feel uncomfortable. And sure enough, as soon as the dust from his ’76 Firebird settled along the driveway, out came the tequila.
The evening was “spirited” and ended with Augusta so blind drunk he passed out on the bathroom floor with his hand in the toilet. Star threw up off the back patio and fell asleep on a chaise lounge under the stars. I ended up fucking Athena on the bear skin rug with the fire still burning in the woodstove.
The next night went down with considerably less partying, the hangovers and awkwardness being the motivating factor for a simple movie night in the log cabin at the end of the dirt road. Woodrow came home at ten am on Sunday see Athena and I half-naked together on the couch under the pile of the pillows he’d bought expressly to use for that purpose. His eyes flashed, he gritted his teeth and issued just one quiet expletive: Asshole. With a surprisingly refrained temperament he lowered his head, squeezed the bridge of his nose and said that if I wasn’t out by noon he’d have the cops drag me out.
Fortunately he wasn’t the kind of person to send someone to jail for trespassing but I did find that calling his bluff quickly led to him tossing my backpack out the front door. I couldn’t help but comply. I felt bad for the guy because I knew he really liked Athena—it just wasn’t his time.
Either way, I got my just desserts. After calling Athena at the log cabin a week later I found out that she’d be hitchhiking to Summit County with a friend of mine for three weeks and not to “worry about her.” Sure enough, upon their return she would come to tell me they had fallen in love.
For me, without any lodging I’d had to take up residence in a short-bus before I could get better housing. I ended up living in that thing for a month. It wasn’t the way I’d intended the summer to end especially when it started with such promise. I’d gotten my hippie payback— and just the way Woodrow would’ve wanted.
At least I got to have sex on a bear skin rug. So it was worth it!
* diary submitted by trevor74
