By Jessica Meisels
Look, I don’t know. One minute we were talking and laughing about going to the “Joshua Tree,” which, as any sane person would conclude, means visiting a tree named Joshua, maybe have a lie down and a champers in the park while I read; that sort of thing. No.
What was sold to me as a “casual two hour drive to a park” was in fact a five-hour TREK to some desert mountains with the ugliest joshua trees I’ve ever seen. It was also fucking FREEZING. All my friends suddenly morphed into pro-climbers with weird shiny metal equipment and shoes and rods and things they had been hiding all semester. I was somehow roped into sliding awkwardly over boulders, slipping down cold rocks, stumbling as I fearfully attempted (and failed) to jump from one rock to the next, and burnt my hands on gravel. As my crew skipped, hopped and jumped gleefully up the mountain, I grumbled and cursed that they were all seeing my weak, and therefore accurate, side. Allow me to demonstrate:
“Hey Jess, just a bit more to go!”
“Get fucked. Where’s Starbucks?”
“Haha, you’ll be fine!”
“I’m...going to kill you. And then your whole family. I hate you.”
“Ha…wait…you didn’t laugh…Why do your eyes look crazy? What are you doing with those scissors?!”
I somehow found myself at the top of a mountain, looking down at the most revolting desert, attached by little more than rope and a whole lotta faith.
“Don’t worry Jess, we’ve got you!”
“You’ve got me?! You IDIOT! Who ARE you, Aron Ralston?! I DON’T THINK SO, YOU ASSHOLE! GET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT. I am a whole metre above ground!!!”
I could go on and on, as I told Mum in a detailed 30 minute conversation, approximately 27 minutes of which were waiting for Mum to stop laughing at me and quote, “Thanks for making me feel good about myself.” Bitch.
After embarrassingly being let down, (“OMG. OMG. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING. I HATE YOU. I’M GOING TO JOIN THE NRA JUST SO I CAN KILL YOU FOR NOT LETTING ME DOWN. LET ME DOWN. LET ME DOWN NOW-”
“Jess, PLEASE, you could jump. You’re pretty much touching the ground-”
“STOP TRYING TO KILL ME YOU WILL NEVER HAVE MY SHOE COLLECTION!”) and walking off in a huff, I decided to redeem myself. “Hey, so, fun as this whole, you know, ‘Everest’ thing is, I’m over this whole tampering-with-death phase, I’m gonna lie in the car. Want me to take anything?” MISTAKE.
And so this is how I ended up climbing down a mountain, with inappropriate footwear, no phone reception, a back-pack, an esky, and a motherfucking DECK CHAIR. Took them 10-12 minutes, took me an hour. I am a Jewish girl. Obviously, when I offer to carry anything, what I meant was, “So, where’s the helicopter?” Fml.
