Death by Hippie

You have to read Hippie Mary in the  Crazy Magnet section before understanding this one. It is a continuation of my camping trip in the Smokey Mountains with my college boyfriend, Steve, and several girls who basically had no experience in the wild. Including Mary.  Mary was one of those annoying 90’s Hippies who adopted the lifestyle as a fashion trend with no understanding of what the whole movement was about.  I wanted to kill her throughout most of the trip, but the strain of taking care of her almost killed me….

Here is Part 2 of Hippie Mary:

Then. THEN…THEN I GOT SICK.

I woke up the next morning barely able to breathe or move. We split up my pack and Steve and Handsome Army Guy (who was heading in our direction anyway) helped carry my load. I hiked, in a complete fog, until lunch, at which point a spiked a fever of I don’t know how high (no thermometer in the mountains) and passed out before I could eat.

I didn’t fall asleep.

I passed out.

With full convulsions.

After the seizure ended Handsome Army Guy force-fed me some soup, and Steve and the girls refilled our canteens. They further removed weight from my pack, so that I was just carrying an empty frame on my back, and we continued on our way. More breathless fatigue and sweats and chills swept over me, but there was nothing to do but go on, or lie down and hope for the best.

Like death.

So I kept going until evening. Steve set up our tent, and, miraculously, everything got done without me having to do anything. Fire, food, water. Steve, Handsome Army Guy and the girls did everything. Except Mary, who was convinced I was going to die and kept reading Sylvia Plath poems to me as I laid there, slightly delirious. The next morning I was worse, but strong enough to rip Mary’s Plath book from her hand and use it, again, as kindling. She started crying and I told her, between labored breaths, that I was NOT dying, and if she didn’t stop her blubbering I would use what strength I had to drown her in the river. I was too sick to deal with her nonsense, and seemed incapable of containing my anger.

We hiked one more day, Steve and Handsome Army Guy staying close by as I quite literally blindly ambled forward. When we reached a point to where we could either take one path, and continue our adventure, or the other path, and find populated shelter, we chose shelter.

A few hours later I was lying in a hospital bed. I had pneumonia, needed antibiotics (or some type of medicine, I can’t remember now what they gave me) and IV fluids. I’d lost eleven pounds in two days and I STANK LIKE A SEWER. The rest of the girls stayed at the camping shelter (where they belonged) and Mary took a bus back to campus (where she belonged). I was well enough to travel by the time the entire group returned from their expeditions and rode back home on the bus. The next week was spent at Steve’s parents’ house, convalescing.

I went back to school after break to find that Mary had moved out of our dorm. I saw her a few months later on campus. Legs shaven, hair washed, patchouli smell replaced by Chanel, and she was pledging a sorority.