An uncommon lack of good sense

The Smelmooo and I just returned from a lovely long weekend away. We first went to Baltimore, then headed down to Shenandoah, where we stayed at a little inn, ate amazing food, did some hiking, and went a drive-in movie theater (my first ever!). It was absolute heaven, just what we both needed to get our heads away from work, to spend some time together and to relax.

Thursday night, after a day at the aquarium and dinner on the inner harbor (where one of the boats was hosting a high school prom; we saw a bunch of couples boarding, all smiles, not a hair out of place, and I wondered how many of the girls would be in tears by the end of the night, and whether any of the kids would get kicked out for drinking, but at the point we saw it, the night was still filled with fairy-tale magic), we settled into our hotel room to drink wine, play poker and half-watch TV.

When ER came on, we gave it our full attention, even though we both mostly don't like the show anymore. But every once in a while, it's really good, and we both get hooked again, although I'm still not sure I can ever forgive them for killing off Gallant (on a related note, I hear they killed Mischa Barton's character off on The O.C., and although I've never watched the show, I give them mad props for that).

And ER was awesome, mostly in a good way, but also in a "Crap; I can't believe they ended it that way and we have to wait all summer with this knot in our stomachs" kind of way. But at one point, I remarked to the Smelmooo that, if I were ever held at gunpoint, or kidnapped, or experienced anything that required me to think on my feet to survive, I'd be dead, dead, dead. I read those stories about the women who persuade their attackers not to rape them, or help their would-be killers find God (although I think that woman was on crystal meth or something), or send smoke signals telepathically to buy themselves time, and I think, "No way would I ever think to do that. In fact, I'd do the exact opposite."

I really think that I have no survival skills, no appropriate instincts or common sense or anything of that nature to keep me safe or even alive if threatened. I may be so ill-equipped in this department that I'll win a Darwin Award when I die, because I decided to tell the burglar to shove it up his ass, instead of cooperating.

Anyway, it was just an offhand comment I made on Thursday, but yesterday, when we were hiking on Skyline Drive, I realized it might come true sooner than I thought. We'd hiked about two-thirds of our 3-ish mile hike when I heard something probably a hundred yards away; I looked up and saw what I still swear was a bear cub.

At which point, instead of staying still and quiet as one should upon encountering a bear, I said, very loudly, pointing and waving, "HOLY CRAP! IS THAT A BEAR?!" The Smelmooo, of course, quietly shushed me and we continued walking as the bear scampered away, and I mumbled, "Huh. So, I guess that's probably not what you're supposed to do when you think you see a bear, is it?"

We didn't see him again, but for the whole rest of our hike, every chipmunk made me jump; every wet tree stump was a vicious animal ready to attack. I'm not usually so wimpy -- no, really, I'm not -- but this just scared the crap out of me, and made me realize that for all of my book smarts, I'm just not that bright.