when i was a kid, my family and i used to always go on a family trip for a few days during the summer. it was normally somewhere in the midwest, like montana or wyoming.

on our trip to wyoming, a majority of my family went. my dad, charlie, my mom, vicki, my sister, katie, my aunt, patty, my cousin, matt, and his best friend, greg. we rented a nice little townhouse. when we went grocery shopping, my parents made the mistake of giving matt and greg each their own carts. keep in mind, they were about 19 at the time and would eat anything and everything that crossed their paths. my dad had a cart, my mom had a cart, and matt and greg both with carts. when we met back up at the checkout, their carts were literally overflowing with food. every single kind of food you could imagine. my parents' carts were full too, though nothing like matt and greg's. our bill was about 500 dollars. we had gotten 2 pounds of lunch meat. we went back every single day to get another 2 pounds. silly teenage boys.

when we arrived at the house, i went immediately to the first bedroom and was pleased to find 2 bunkbeds in it. i called the top bunk quickly before my sister could. my dad was hesitant about letting me sleep up there, as the side rails weren't very high, and almost non-existent. but i, being the stubborn little kid that i was, insisted that i would be fine and that i could sleep up there.

that night, my dad slept in the top bunk across the room from me. he wanted to make sure that i was okay during the night. i'm not a very still sleeper and i move around everywhere. well i guess i moved a little too suddenly for my dad's liking and he freaked. he tried to find the ladder down the bunk to come over and check on me. he didn't find the ladder and fell off the bed, fracturing a rib. my dad did this because of me. i slept soundlessly through the whole thing.
when i woke up, i was in a bottom bunk. i'm not sure quite how i got there, but i was safe. i found out about my dad and didn't really know what to think. it was kind of funny, how ironic the situation was.

that day, my family insisted on going white-water rafting. i hate boats. with a burning passion. my mom knew that at the time. i knew exactly how dangerous it was for me to go on it. i was a little kid, but shit, was i clever. my dad couldn't go because of his rib. when my family was getting ready to go out on the raft, i begged my mom not to make me do it. i would have done anything not to go on that stupid raft. my mom bent down to my level, looked me dead in the eye, and said "do you want to have the time of your life? or do you want to go grocery shopping with your father?"

while on the raft, i looked up around every corner. my dad was there. around every single corner. he was taking pictures for us. he never went grocery shopping. he was watching us have an awesome time. well, the rest of my family.
we still have the picture that the professional photographer took. anyone who's been to my house has seen it. my mom insists that every single person that passes through the house sees it. here's how it goes:
matt- he just happened to be flexing his arm while paddling at the right time and looks like a model
greg- happy as a clam
katie- laughing with her massive buckteeth (it was her awkward stage)
mom- laughing like a maniac
patty- not quite sure whether to be very happy or very scared
creeper instructor man- bored
me- scared completely shitless out of my god damn mind
i hate that picture.
i don't regret going on that raft because i know that if i hadn't, my mom would never let me live it down.
i don't remember anything else of the trip. i know that it was fun, as all family trips go when you're 8.