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Date Posted: 17:06:09 07/10/02 Wed
Author: Manos
Subject: My memories of Clash

I guess my most vivid memory of Clash was, ironically, the time that I myself set about on a hiking trip of my own, in the Appalachian mountains.

Everything had gone fine for the first two days. However, on the third day, the trail had deviated from what was indicated on my trailmap. A sense of adventure soon turned to a sense of concern, and then to a genuine sense of fear for my life, as the trail began to narrow further and further, and the sun continued to fall, until there was no trail to be found, and darkness had set upon me.

I managed to hack out enough space in the weeds to set up the tent and camp there that night, but my sleep was restless.

I awoke the next morning to the frightening conclusion that I was lost, and the trail I had followed the previously day was nowhere to be found, and my food supplies would only carry me through the next day, two at most. Determined to at least try to get myself out of this mess, I began hacking away towards what I thought was a clearing which would allow me to regain both my sense of direction, as well as my composure.

But hours of this proved fruitless, and after probably only going 100, maybe 150 yards, I found myself just as lost and desperate as before.

As sun began to set on that second day, something odd happened. I heard a beeping sound from my backpack!

My phone! In all of the ruckus, I had forgotten that I had packed my phone! Unfortunately, the beeping sound was the phone informing me that it's batteries were on their last legs, and were about to give out. Just like an unplanned visit to a police station, I could probably only make one phone call.

I knew right away who to call. I would call Clash, and tell him to call the authorities and begin a search/rescue operation.

So I called. The phone rang several times, which made me very nervous that he wasn't there. But finally, he picked up:

"Yea..whaaa?"

Prayers answers. "Clash!! Good buddy! I need your help, man! I'm lost in the mountains, I'm guessing about 20 miles northwest of the Lake Firewood camp, in a bunch of really thick brush, and I'm lost and can't get out! Call for help!"

"W-...whaa? Yea... wha?"

That motherfucker was so drunk he didn't even know what I was talking about! The next thing I heard was him passing out with the phone next to his head so all I heard was this ugly gurgling/heavy breathing sound. He never did call for help, and by the time I eventually found my way out several days later, I was malnourished and full of disease!

What a DICK!!!

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