When I worked at the bookstore, there was a girl working in the cafe named Emily. She's short, small, and a fiery ball of German/Irish attitude. She told me this story when I had just started working there and I have never heard anything half so awesome in my life.
Emily had plans one weekend to go hiking with a boy named Mike. She and Mike were best friends and made plans like this pretty often, no questions asked. The area down by Tucquan Glenn is infamous for being secluded from civilization with spotty cell phone reception. Emily was going to be dropped off by her father, and the two were to meet at the park entrance around midday, enjoy a few hours of hiking around, and drive back to the city together. But even the best laid plans always go awry.
Emily waited for hours before giving up on Mike. She refused to waste the opportunity and started her hike alone. Before long, darkness fell, and rainclouds moved in. Emily needed to find shelter or she would be stuck in the thunderstorm with no protection. Luckily, not far off the trail, there was a cave overlooking a small pond. She settled in for the night and prepared for the worst.
Within 10 minutes, Emily went primal.
She stripped naked, ran screaming into the rain, cannonballed into the pond, painted war paint on her face and body, and built a fire using sticks and dried leaves from the inside of the cave. Emily had also brought a backpack of supplies, including her art gear and a sketchbook. She even brought out her charcoal and pastels to draw cave paintings.
The next morning, Emily made her way back down the mountain. She passed a few other hikers on the trail but they seemed to give her a wide birth, probably on account of the twigs still stuck in her hair from her cave woman experience. She still needed to find a telephone to call her dad and find a ride home.
Emily walked about two miles up the road until she came to a house with a telephone cable running towards it. It was a pretty run down shack, one of those last resort houses like the one from Night of the Living Dead. She knocked on the front door and the woman who answered had disheveled hair and a hint of a black eye. She agreed to lend Emily her phone, and when she turned away from the door Emily noticed the man sitting on the couch. Stark naked. Cleaning his gun.
20 minutes later, Emily ran as fast as she could toward her dad's car and high tailed it out of her nightmare. The news gets even better: Mike forgot completely about their plans to go hiking because he was HOOKING UP WITH HER ROOMMATE. What a jerk.
She got him back, though.
A few months later, Emily was invited out to a bar in the city for drinks with some old friends. Mike and her roommate were busy and she didn't have a car so she stole Mike's keys and borrowed his Vespa. Three hours and 8 kamikaze shots later, she was on her way back home. Emily was wearing her old German war helmet with the single spike on top while screaming in German and driving a stolen Vespa through the back alleys of Lancaster.
She actually has no memory of reaching home, but the next morning Mike was pretty confused when he walked outside to find his Vespa chained to a tree instead of in the garage, the spike from the helmet embedded in the tree (as though she headbutted it), and his keys hidden in a flower pot by the front door.
Like I said. Awesomeland.
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