Oakland Nature Preserve

I'm listening to The Lonely Island right now. Something about being on a boat - and now there's an ad. Stupid Pandora. Killing my safe, pasty, white rap buzz. I should probably start writing, anyway. A friend of mine took notice that I enjoy nature trails, and made a suggestion: Oakland Nature Preserve. You had me at "nature." You'd think Florida would be nothing BUT scrub land and swamps, but you'd be wrong. Big Agriculture drained the swamps and the tourist industry hazed the scrub land. There are more outlet malls around my neighborhood than I'd care to admit. Florida is a MASSIVE suburb... the few bits of wild land remaining is met with scorn. "It's all wet and creepy and it smells funny and junk." THAT MAY BE TRUE. But it's OUR wild America. We gotta preserve it, yo. For the future. So, on a whim, I gathered up a few free friends and set out for Oakland Nature Preserve. Que the lightning. Heh... I just realized I said "we gotta preserve it," and we're going to a preserve.

Why do you have to be like that, nature? All I want to do is go out, take pictures of you... respect and admire your splendor. BUT NO. You want to rain me out. Is it because I didn't finish watching The Social Network last night (It's THREE flipping hours)? Come heck or high water, I'm going to walk this nature trail. First I had to make a detour to pick up John.

John, having the breakfast of champions. What kind of champions? It rhymes with "smack feds." Give up? It-it's crack heads.

John was having a breakfast of Nerds. Hopefully he doesn't get hyper later on the trail. I've never seen John hyper. I'd rather not. After getting some gas(John went inside to add Chex Mix and Arizona Iced Tea to his breakfast), we picked Keenan up. He was happy to see us.

Keenan, happy to see us.

Keenan, less happy. 

I'm not proud of that picture. If male childbirth was a reality, that would probably be the face of any man in labor... or a Steeler's fan after the Superbowl. Keenan is neither, as far as I know. Well, I've gathered my exploration party. Time to make peace with our respective gods and see what Oakland has in store for us.

YOU CAN'T STOP US, NATURE.

 The rain got pretty extreme. Florida has such finicky weather, though. It seemed unlikely that the storm would keep up too long. I equate our weather to that of a high school fling; it's sunny(honeymoon phase), followed by strong winds and rain(realization that love means more than lots of sex and a toleration of the Twilight series), shattered by rays of sunlight(disregard flaws, embrace denial). Anyhoo, the weather KIND of did that. It just sprinkled for the rest of the journey, which in high school relationship terms would be the "she's on her period, back off" phase. Unintended mental images of menstrual rainfall aside, we arrived.

Tell your funders that your sign could use some work.

No.

A smoker; one can assume they let us barbecue whatever we happen to catch, whether it be bird or beast... human? No... that would be ridiculous...

I'm already sketched out. I'm pretty sure this is how The Hills Have Eyes started. Granted, there were attractive women in that film, but the signs are clear: seemingly abandoned buildings, smokers left unattended, not a person in sight. I'd almost be disappointed if we weren't mugged or eaten.

"You guys go ahead! I'm just going to sprint back to the car and leave you here!"

Primordial soup

We started to walk the trail. A massive boardwalk led us through pristine, untouched - oh, there's a plastic bottle... uhh, forest and swamp. The air was crisp and clean, and a cacophony of bird calls filled the canopies above us, draped in Spanish Moss. It was picturesque. John was losing himself. He had long finished his Nerds, and his eyes screamed madness. I had seen this before. FOREST MADNESS. Well, and a sugar rush. I better keep my eyes on him.

Oh sweet bippy. Keenan is blissfully unaware of the danger.

A quaint gazebo, complete with swing and bench.

Keenan, it's just a gazebo! CALM YOURSELF! (Keenan's family was killed by a pack of wild gazebos)

Alien deer, as indicated by the unusual shade of green their eyes produced upon taking this photo. Coincidence? No.

This is BEAUTIFUL. Sprawling, ancient trees. Ferns as abundant as grass. It's like I've gone back in time. There was even a reserve with deer and a MASSIVE antelope. The rain had all but stopped. Things were looking up. Then John snapped. He  done snapped good.

"MY KINGDOM! AROOO?!?!?"

We discovered some kind of ceremony ground, anointed by the blood of a thousand martyrs...  or more likely(and less publishable), a picnic/discussion area. John made this his unholy church. I warned Keenan against his preaching. It fell on deaf ears. Keenan, long broken by past events, took comfort in John's promises of eternal glory. I was truly alone. Time to run. How come somebody always goes crazy on my nature excursions?

"I serve an angry and spiteful God."

While I ran towards the exit, I took pictures.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

AM I GETTING CLOSE? OH GOD PLEASE NO

Wait, this isn't the exit... IT'S A TRAP!

Oh sweet, merciful Jesus.

 They met me at another junction along the trail. They looked menacing. I wasn't going to make a break for it. I walked behind them, apprehensively taking photos.

Flowers to forget my captivity. 

Keenan, considering how best to kill me, a heretic. 

John, doing the same.

Keenan is convinced a swamp ape uprooted this tree. I remain skeptical. 

Lipkins, herons, and egrets rooted about in the water for snails, fish, and crustaceans. Hawks swooped overhead. Keenan and John looked at me from time to time. I feared for my life.

"It would be too easy to just kill you." OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

As we left the nature preserve, it became clear they weren't going to ACTUALLY kill me. They were just bored. I think the swamp air got to them.

No Nazis. Not ever.

As we drove towards home, Keenan announced that he hungered for chili cheese fries. John nodded in agreement. "Make it so." And so we did. I had the "Quesadilla Explosion Salad." Needless to say, it was unpleasant.

He vomited later.

"CHICKEN."

"Excuse me, miss? You served my quesadilla's inside out."