adventure Archives - Page 3 of 3

Posted on June 8, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

FUN things to do on your anniversary!

Here are ‘7 Things’ I thank God my wife and I were able to do last weekend for our 7-year anniversary:

1.) Ride a Segway like a boss in Franklin, TN. (As opposed to riding a segway like this.)

2.) See Leah sit in the biggest chair East of the Mississippi

3.) Go to a concert featuring bands neither of us had ever heard of (really)…

4.) Find a Wingstop in a random shopping center in Nashville TN.

(W-I-N-G-S-T-O-P is the best!!)

5.) Work out TOGETHER after 1.5 days of non-stop travel.

6.) Celebrate with dinner together in Chattanooga!

7.) Take a walk after dinner (and ask a stranger to snap your picture). Yes. A picture together. Imagine that. A brief reprieve from the never-ending single person poses that we do as couples. 🙂 The gentleman who snapped ours was kind enough to ask “Portrait or landscape?”

7 FUN things to-do on your anniversary! (Franklin -> Nashville -> Chattanooga)

Posted on June 5, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

4 Ingredients for Writing.

Tap into your inner Emiril Lagasse for a second. Think about the kitchen as a workspace. Big chef’s hat and all. Emeril (or, any chef) takes his/her cooking space seriously and might involuntarily throw out phrases like “BAM!” and “Kick it up a notch!”

Now, think about your favorite recipe.

Got one in mind?

Mine is always the same, always delicious: Blackberry Cobbler.

1 cup flour
1 cup sugar
1 stick butter
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 cup 2% milk
1 pint blackberries

Now, Think about the steps required to make something that delicious. And, then transfer that kitchen-etiquette onto YOUR process for doing something else you love (mine’s writing).

For example:

There are steps to follow at your writing desk, equipment that must be used, and documents to prepare in a certain order that (believe it or not) are very similar to what it takes to make the almighty cobbler.

Here are 4 of my “Go-To” Writing ingredients (followed in this order below):

1. Be intentional in setting aside a “quiet” space (Not like this one, it’s clickable and complete with strobe lights.)

2. Don’t let obstacles stop you from picking up the pen!

3. Set a goal (word count, 500 words+) before you can quit!

(love this one, click it!)

4. Get consumed by the endeavor!

(Maybe not this much)

5. Return to “life” only after the goal is met!

(Picture says it all.)

**These 4 items give me direction in giving my labor of love the proper amount of discipline it deserves. I hope it helps you in yours this week.

Posted on June 3, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

5 Phases of Writing.

5 PHASES OF WRITING (in summary):

Phase 1: The Excitement!

You shout, “This is the BEST thing since sliced bread! I LOVE YOU book! Go make it BIG.” (Click on picture for fun celebratory dance.)

Phase 2: Nervous Nelly.

Question you send to publisher, agent, editor: “Soooo did you love my book?” Followed by sweaty palms galore. (see, Chandler Bing)

Phase 3: Awkward Silence…

…Days, weeks, months.

You say to yourself, “Where is that darn reply?”

Phase 4: Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

Publisher writes, “We’re sorry but this work just isn’t right for us at this time. We wish you the best with it elsewhere. Keep us in mind for future projects. Thanks.”

Phase 5: The Attempt To Stand Back Up.

Recover. Pick up the spilled milk. March on towards that next publisher, say, “Pick me!”

**All the while not walking with a limp.

May your encounters be sweet in the publishing world this week! Remember: they’re just words typed on a keyboard – somewhere. Nothing personal. Keep at it!

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

Loving others, quirks and all.

When the clock hits 11:09am/pm each day, I think of my birthday. Is it just me or do you do something similar that you find odd, slightly disturbing?

I’m trying to decide what is normal behavior and what is pushing the limits of neurosis.

(I should probably reserve more than just 1 week to ascertain this.)

But, quirkiness is sometimes just that…a quirk you possess.

Side note: I’m not trying to belittle neurosis and Jung’s theory at all here. So please don’t misread this post and its intentions. Here’s a great article to read concerning mental health struggles.

Rather, I’d like to focus on actions that are more ‘quirk’ than disorder and not to be confused with: obsessive-compulsive, impulsivity, anxiety, phobias, and hysteria.

Things like seeing my birth date on a clock display. Make a wish. Kind of stuff.
Counting steps involuntarily as you climb/descend them at work.
Remembering fragments (or whole passages) of material on specific pages of a book.
Are these nervous ticks? Maybe. But, sometimes they’re gifts as well.

God gives us uniqueness all the way down to our finger prints.

My name is anything but unique, but I’m learning to be okay with that–finally. My height is average. But, there are so many gifts just below the surface, and it might just mean taking a little extra time to look for them in your life.

For you–maybe you have a knack for telling jokes. Or, you can condense large bits of information down into relatable doses for those of us less inclined to remember a dictionary. Whatever it is–it’s uniqueness that only you have.

Picture yourself like Wolverine in X-Men recognizing (for the first time) that he has adamantium coursing through his veins.

That is you. Anything but average.

Your name, your height, your eye color might be like billions of others, and that is a good thing, too. It can make your connection to others even stronger. It, too, makes you relatable.

“Loving God, Loving people” is a phrase you might hear a lot. Your quirkiness makes that even easier. Believe it or not.

As I typed this, I just recognized that I haven’t been letting this be (in my life) what it is: a gift. Here’s to a week of letting that resonate with you. Here’s my church’s most recent podcast regarding ‘Biblical Blunders’ and uniqueness of those being used by God (failures and all). Listen here . Part 3 should be added this week, and it includes even more people to study and note their quirks. Hope it helps strengthen your view (of yourself) this week.

Feel free to share quirks you may have.

Posted on May 29, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

6 Questions to Ask When Making a Bucket List.

The Bucket. Kicking the Bucket. Passing on. Reaching heaven.

Where do you see your life going in the next few minutes, hours, weeks, years? Do you have a vision of some sort? Is God directing you to a path?

The Bucket List is something many have thought long and hard about since that cheeky 2000s movie starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. But, people thought about it long before that movie as well. They’ve thought about it for thousands of years. Believe it or not.

The 5 Big questions to consider when making this list of yours: Who? Where? What? When? Why?

Who do you hope to be during the course of your days on Earth?
Where do you see your actions, words, etc., taking you?
What are you doing to make this life the best it can be?
When do you see yourself standing up for the life God wants for you?
Why would you alter your current course at all?

These are tough, whether you’re building a Bucket List or not. But, what if we treated everything in our day-to-day lives with a Bucket List mentality? God supreme. Our breath a gift. Where would our map point us?

See, the who, where, what, when, and why give us a full range of questions to help keep our focus on the present. On the progress of each day. Then, if we throw in 1 more question (the How?), we will rarely miss our mark. Because, the How? is self-explanatory. How will we stay on course? – God. (If we answer the How? any other way, it leads us astray.)

So, to go back to the Big 5 (+1 How?) we now have the logic needed to build the best Bucket List ever!

How would you build yours now knowing the purpose behind a life-long Bucket List?

The Brian Tucker Bucket List—

Honor God (and never quit), Become a better husband, truly grateful, Fish for marlin in the Gulf Stream, Write a novel that changes someone’s life, Become a better listener, Go to a “good” concert each and every year, Tithe with a grateful heart, Ride a bull (and/or) run with the bulls, Have a conversation with Charles Portis, Harness my pride and take bold, God-approved stances on issues in our world that would exemplify Christ, Store up treasures in Heaven not Earth, Visit a new continent every 5 years, Be still at least 1 time every day, Play Contra on a drive-in movie theater, Move to Kentucky, have a son, and name him Ken Tucker (safe to say Leah won’t ever stand for that one, I’ve tried), and Travel through the Panama Canal from Atlantic to Pacific Ocean.

Think about yours. Share it as you build it. Write me back.

Here’s a great one I found online—

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

Farm-Living.

Have I told you about how I grew up on a farm?

(Some of you just read that and probably thought: O boy. Here we go.)

Most of my times were enjoyable on the farm.

A lot of heavy lifting. Baling hay. Etc.

But, the item that stands out most solidly was something that started as a love of mine and became (ever-so-gradually) a fear, then full-blown hatred about farm life.

It was…my horse.

That’s right.

Backstory: I had had the best pony you could imagine. He was part-human, I swear. Like a big, loyal puppy dog. He followed me everywhere. Going on trail rides with my family was a treat. (I even asked if he could come in the house once or twice.)

Then, 2 things happened:

1.) I grew about 1-foot one summer, gained 50 pounds

2.) My mom said I needed a ‘horse’

So, the hunt started and stopped at an auction in central Kentucky. We found a palomino! (I’d always wanted one of those.)

I wish I could say the story got better.

Ryker’s Brand Gold dust (her official name) became Gold dust and then Babydoll, because me and my brother thought it sounded better.

She was deathly thin when we bought her. Her next stop probably would’ve been the glue factory had we not stepped in.

She gained weight. We fed her non-stop. Then, I started training her. She gained a little life from the food and training. You could see it in her eyes. I was excited to try this new ride, even though I missed my always faithful pony, Arrow.

Babydoll was beautiful. (Just like the color of gold dust when she was let out into our fields to graze, to take in sunshine, and to mingle with the herd.)

Then, I asked the question, “Since she’s trained, could we take her on the next trail ride?”

We did.

She jumped into the horse trailer, no problem. She unloaded no problem. She rode the trail (at first) no problem.

Then, some proverbial dam bust somewhere in her head.

The happy, content, fat, gold-coated Babydoll went haywire. She refused to cross small watering holes. Started biting other horses. And at one point, she turned and ran through dense trees and brush piles. But, it was obvious she wasn’t just going crazy…she was MEAN. Babydoll tried her hardest to knock me off with branches, tree trunks, and debris. (It was the largest beating I’ve ever sustained on a horse to this day.)

Fast forward to the evening, and I was devastated. We let her graze with the rest, and we left it at that. The next day, my brother and I were going out to fill the water troughs, and Babydoll perked up her ears. Neither Jared nor I thought much of it, because most of the herd loved to check out the water tanks.

But, she did a bit more. She lowered her head and lunged at us. Jared was faster and scaled a fence and looked back. He saw me getting rammed by the rock-like head of the horse. Luckily it knocked me sideways in my run, and I didn’t take the brunt of her force. I recovered and sprinted to another gate and hopped over just as she smacked that gate with her head.

She had become a demon (almost overnight).

Then, we talked about it as a family. We thought she’d come out of it. But, deep down I felt otherwise.

Over the next 2 years, we watched her give birth to foals. Then, we watched her kick at them non-stop and refuse to let them nurse. Luckily, we had other mares to let Babydoll’s offspring choose from.

The trail rides became worse and worse. She kept trying to do the “fling off” method. Rather than enjoy the trips, I just spent most of my weekends whipping her and trying not to die.

2 things happened:

1.) I became great at dodging disasters/death every Sunday

2.) Babydoll took on a constant Hulk-like persona among the other horses.

My family agreed that my sole job was to keep Babydoll from killing the others in the herd. Talk about great riding motivation. But, I did.

Babydoll was hateful, and I missed Arrow, the pony. It was night and day between the two animals’ personalities. Maybe it’s what caused me to steer away from farm life. Either way, I know that Babydoll is somewhere today wreaking havoc upon some other poor soul.

Arrow at 20-something years of age is still offering rides and helping to train the future riders of America! (You should visit him at a stable in Monticello, KY.)

To you Arrow, I say, “Thank you for the many miles, compadre!”

To Babydoll, “No one liked you when you were angry.” (Hulk reference)

Throwback Thursday!

Posted on May 27, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

Flannery O’ Connor – God’s story through her fiction.

Last night’s, “My Dear God:” A Conversation on the Faith of Flannery O’ Connor event at The Camp House went swimmingly.

There were so many great topics addressed and quotes given that I couldn’t possibly get them all down.

But, I’ll try to re-cap some of the highlights.

For starters:

It’s nice to know Flannery O’ Connor was human after all. She worried like anyone else. When admitted to the University of Iowa, she worried about being smart enough to attend a mid-western graduate school.
She also had a thick Southern accent. For anyone who has one of those, apparently O’ Connor’s was so thick, the writing program director couldn’t understand her when she asked to be admitted into the Iowa Writer’s Workshop program (she didn’t like journalism and wanted to switch gears). So, he eventually wanted her to write it down to make it easier for both of them. She simply wrote on paper, “Want in,” and it helped her leave a career in reporting behind and fiction straight ahead.
O’ Connor created a prayer journal around her early 20s and only wrote in it for about 1.5 years. The journal is reflective of her closeness to God and changes (as she does in her relationship) in that time frame. From the way she addresses the Creator to the subject matter of the prayers themselves, there is a nice lens in which to see her grapple with her Catholic faith and her daily trips to Mass.
O’ Connor wrestled with authenticity (like most of us do). She didn’t want to be a phony. She didn’t want to be a fraud. But, she also didn’t want to leave God out of her life’s work. Her prayers are representative of this. (The journal was released in 2013 by her peer, William Sessions.)
And what I find the neatest portion of her short 39-year legacy on this earth is her progress from writing down her prayers to God inside this journal to her writing itself becoming her prayer to God.

Here are some amazing quotes she offered while alive about the topic of prayer (and writing for God). Notice her approach:

“I do not mean to deny the traditional prayers I have said all my life, but I have been saying them and not feeling them.”
“My attention is always very fugitive. This way I have it every instant. I can feel a warmth of love heating me when I think & write this to You.”
“My dear God, how stupid we people are until You give us something. Even in praying it is You who have to pray in us.”
“There is a whole sensible world around me that I should be able to turn to Your Praise; but I cannot do it. Yet at some insipid moment when I may possibly be thinking of floor wax or pigeon eggs, the opening of a beautiful prayer may come up from my subconscious and lead me to write something exalted.”
“Don’t let me ever think, dear God, that I was anything but the instrument for Your story–just like the typewriter was mine.”
“I want so to love God all the way. At the same time I want all the things that seem opposed to it–I want to be a fine writer.”
“Please let Christian principles permeate my writing, and please let there be enough of my writing (published) for Christian principles to permeate.”
“Please help me dear God to be a good writer and to get something else accepted.”
“If I ever do get to be a fine writer, it will not be because I am a fine writer but because God has given me credit for a few of the things He kindly wrote for me.”
“Give me the grace, dear God, to adore You, for even this I cannot do for myself.”

O’ Connor developed lupus and only lived to age 39, but, her words still resonate with writers and readers alike today.

One article by Casep Cep in The New Yorker states how she personally utilizes a prayer journal like O’ Connor. She says, “For years, when I was starting to write, I prayed, “God let my words lead them to yours; let me lead them to you.” I wrote that prayer in the margins of pages and on the inside covers of my notebooks, hoping that I would produce something that might serve the Lord.” And goes on to add, “Her (O’ Connor’s) journal ended when her prayers became fully integrated in her writing; the literature itself was a prayer, an offering to God.”

I love that message. So whatever your gift is…Maybe you’re still finding it. Maybe you have more than one. Try to fine tune it and use it for Him. Writing. Cooking. Basketball. Parenting. All of the above. Start broad and narrow your scope over time.

O’ Connor’s cry to God started as a prayer journal that functioned alongside the fiction she created. And when she had listened (and prayed) to God intently to understand her direction in life, she was able to grow and fulfill her purpose strictly through that one medium: her writing to God–His story through her fiction.

What’s your offering?

Posted on May 22, 2015 by Brian Tucker — Leave a comment

Friends.

Friends.

Tell them that you love them.

“Love. Amour. Liebe. Amore. Amor. Ljubezen.”

There are so many ways to say it. (The last one was Slovenian. You’re welcome, honey.)

Why tell them?

Maybe because they let you do the ‘Cluck Hunt’ one Halloween, while dressed as Johnny Appleseed:

https://www.facebook.com/dani.pintopyles/videos/vob.12919627/518518643203/?type=2&theater

(If this link doesn’t work, add Dani Pinto Pyles on Facebook. The video is a good one. You’ll want to see it. Maybe for your next party?)

Game rules: “Two teams – 2 Roosters, 13 Hens, and hidden candy corn. The hens can only CLUCK to get the roosters attention when they find a candy corn. Only the rooster can put it in the hen’s cup. Collect the most candy corn for your team to win.”

Maybe because this friend didn’t desert you when you danced like this:

VIDEO0016

Or looked like this:

Or this:

Maybe because they swam in lake water with you that was so murky you couldn’t see the water moccasins. Just feel them.

Maybe they rescued you from yourself more than once.

Whatever they do/have done for you. They’ve gained the label ‘friend’ for no uncertain reason in your life.

Celebrate that today. Tell them, “Thanks for not letting me die that one time!” Or, whatever you feel led to thank them for.

God put them there in that space for a reason.

Posted on May 21, 2015 by Brian Tucker — 2 Comments

Ever Felt Heaven?

Weird question to ask, I know. In the context of being on Earth and all.

Maybe I should ask, Have you ever felt heaven on Earth?

A moment that seemed frozen in time. A glimpse of an after-life?

These are usually just blips when they’ve happened for me. God reveals them in the slightest ways. Simple nuances. Usually found in nature. Not at a computer screen.

A smell that takes you to a time, place. Seeing a friend you haven’t laid eyes on in decades. Going to your favorite spot for lunch.

Heaven on Earth.

For me, it happened not too far from where the last odd tale occurred (see yesterday’s blog, Best Road Trip Ever). Only, instead of Orange Beach, AL, this was due east along the Gulf Coast in Pensacola, FL. We were there for Spring Break, and I was a sophomore at the University of Kentucky.

No. This wasn’t that kind of Spring Break. Haha.

It was a mission trip compliments of Hurricane Ivan’s destruction (and aftermath), Spring 2005. I’d only ever known mission work to be about recovery in terms of re-building an area struck by disaster. This one, we were informed, was going to be demolition.

DEMOLITION.

Never has a word been so sweet on my lips before or since.

Our mission: Demolish an Air Force base in a week’s time.

Sledgehammers to break toilet basins: check.

Leather gloves to rip gutters from houses: check.

It was a beautiful task!

The operation had been called: Rebuild Northwest Florida.

So, there was reconstruction taking place. But, something that often gets overlooked is that things have to be demolished sometimes in order to be rebuilt.

We were that crew.

The heaven on Earth moment happened, as we tore these abandoned Air Force homes apart. Each day the temperature climbed “higher and higher” (cue up 80s tune). Those working to remove shingles, nails, roofing supplies were getting cooked.

Guess who landed up there?

You know it. But, that’s the only way to demolish a house. From the outside in. You can’t get to the frame and the interior without first removing the exterior. So, we did. Me and several buddies. Man, that alone almost had the heaven on Earth quality. The temperature. The sweat. The work. Seeing friends get overzealous and accidentally falling through the exposed rafters to the ground below.

TIMBER!

(For the record: I only met gravity’s temperament once.)

But, the heaven on Earth moment happened, as we paused one day in our labors. We heard a noise…We looked up…There were angels above us.

Blue Angels. Flying overhead. Putting on an aerial display. They were located in Pensacola.

We made a point to pause. Drink some water. Look at the majesty of their aerodynamics. All while holding onto the rafters so as not to fall through again.

I remember looking over at a buddy of mine, Josh Field, and saying “It don’t get much better than this!”

He shielded his eyes as the Angels flew up, up even higher. We watched them spiral and turn and maneuver like Angels (for lack of a better comparison). It was a moment of recognizing that in the midst of storms, wrecks, and things being demolished to be re-built, God was there.

The world seemed to stop spinning, and we watched the planes spin instead, and all from those busted rooftops on the coast. I imagine heaven to be that sort of thing non-stop. Except God’s orchestrating EVERYTHING, and there isn’t any risk of hurricane or death.

It’s all like that one moment but even better! Somehow.

Posted on May 20, 2015 by Brian Tucker — 4 Comments

Best Road Trip Ever!

Think of your favorite road trip.

Do you have yours?

What’s the best *spontaneous* trip you’ve ever taken?

Not a vacation. Not a pre-set engagement. Just a “get-in-the-car-and-go” moment.

—

Mine happened in the Spring 2007. March. (I remember, because it was 2 months before I got engaged to my beautiful wife.)

My buddy, JT says: “We should go somewhere.”

My pal, Danielle confirms, “Somewhere with a beach.”

This was the extent of our plan.

1._ We should go somewhere. & 2._ We should find a beach.

So, we embarked South on I-65. No beach criteria other than it’s warmer than Kentucky, in March, and there were some good times ahead.

Pedal down.

JT’s Mercury Sable shook intermittently, as we drove sometimes above and sometimes below the speed limit.

We made the coast in record time.

What coast? Gulf.

What beach? We’d thought Gulf Shores, but discovered Orange Beach was, in fact, this one.

We were ecstatic to hit water!

The skies were dreary, but our moods wouldn’t be controlled by some foul weather.

We RAN to the water. Our plan looked to be a success. We figured 3-4 days at non-Gulf Shores would be just the trick for our poor, post-Winter, pre-Spring blues.

The skies…did I mention they were dark? Well, they were.

The water was FRIGID!

I remember Danielle had a really awesome camera. She thought JT & I were crazy for risking our necks in barely above freezing water.

Not only was the water almost frozen, but the coastline was empty. It was JUST us. The 3 amigos. (Adam and Lindsey had been too cool to join us in no-man’s land, this time.)

The coast looked like the set from the Cormac McCarthy novel-to-movie adaptation of “The Road.” There was nothing but rough waves, and we yelled to try to hear one another.

JT did something I’d never seen him do. He swam farther out…(Jo Carol, if you’re reading this, please know that I would’ve done my best to save him, had he drowned.)

Yes. JT, the doctor, swam farther out to sea in 40 degree-Farenheit water. I did the only thing a best friend should do: I followed. Plus, I had an ego the size of Texas and had been growing a Jesus beard and couldn’t be out-done. So, out we went.

Danielle snapped pictures and watched from an ever-increasing distance. Our ill-planned trip was all right, if you didn’t count the hypothermia, and “water-so-cold-it-burned” component. But…

The waves pulled us out farther. JT didn’t seem to mind. I noticed the swift current and started to resist. (Again, my Texan complex should not go unnoticed.) Well, the waves were winning, and I couldn’t just LET them. So, I resisted.

JT seemed to wait for the waves to crest at just the right moments and eventually, he decided to “tuck-tail-and-surf” back into the mainland. I tried to follow, but the rip current caught me and pulled me out farther. The timing was off. I was only about 3 feet behind JT, but it resulted in a constant drag outward to sea. I fought mother nature, and she won. I was so tired, I started to think I wasn’t going to make it back. I began to think “Great. I don’t think I even told Mom where I was going,” and started to panic at the turbulence.

When I looked up and saw JT almost back to Danielle on the beach, I decided I couldn’t let THIS be the end (ego rejoined). This was life or death. Orange Beach couldn’t be the end.

I swam as hard as I could with each swell, and even kicked through the rip currents, until finally I was pushed onto shore with a burst that drove me into sand. JT and Dani looked down and hadn’t noticed how much I’d worked to not die. They hadn’t been able to see my panic. (Truth be told: it’s the closest…2nd closest…I’ve ever come to dying.)

But, we survived our first rendezvous with Spring Break.

Fast forward to dinner that evening. (We’d placed our bags in some hotel that had availability. Actually they all had availability. Apparently, Gulf Shores, Panama City, and Pensacola were the Spring Break hot spots. Not Orange Beach. So lodging had been no problem.) At dinner, we found a nice seafood restaurant and JT ordered gumbo.

I remember the gumbo, because Danielle and I had commented on New Orleans and made small talk with the waitress. She’d gone on to tell us that Orange Beach wasn’t usually too popular during this time of the year. We added bits and pieces to the conversation about where we were from (small-town USA, Kentucky). She admitted that Kentucky was a place she’d always wanted to visit. The rain kept falling HARD against the metal roof of this establishment.

Her comment about this not being a touristy destination didn’t register right away with us.

Danielle had said, “With this being so close to Gulf Shores, AL, I figured there’d be more people over here.”

The girl had re-filled our waters and nodded. “You’d think that, but I meant because of the storms, and the weather.”

“It’s March.” JT added, “You’d think it’s kinda understood that bad weather happens.”

The girl nodded again. “Of course. It rains a ton. Thunderstorms when there’s not hurricanes. But, I didn’t mean just the weather. I meant what the weather brings with it…” she trailed off.

We just stared at her. Waited for her to continue.

“The sharks,” she said matter-of-factly.

None of us spoke. JT finally piped up, “Sharks? C’mon.”

“Seriously. The bull sharks. They come up close during these thunderstorms and feed close to the shoreline.”

Danielle looked at me. “But, they’re not that dangerous are they?”

The waitress went on, “Only the most. They’ve attacked a few people just a few weeks back. That’s why they’ve asked people to stay away from the water. Until…it clears up anyways.”

JT swalled a big gulp of now colder gumbo.

“You’d have to be insane to be out there in the water. If the waves didn’t get you, the sharks would.”

“That’s why the beach was empty,” I said out loud. “That makes sense,” I tried to laugh, now in a cold sweat.

“You all weren’t in it were you?” she asked.

JT shook his head yes and told her we had.

She called us N-U-T-S and told us we were lucky to be alive.

The remainder of that impromptu road trip was spent watching it rain, singing random songs the 3 of us knew, and playing frisbee against some tropical winds.

Safe to say, none of us swam the rest of that trip. We were alone on a beach without any traffic, any commitments, and plenty of bull sharks watching us.

JT looked for the fins poking out of the water. I worked on my Jesus beard. Danielle (camera amateur-turned-pro) took phenomenal pictures of the storms raging power.

It was a road trip unlike any I’ve ever had. Do I miss Orange Beach? Not at all. But, would I delete that memory and the dangerous elements of that trip? Not in a million years.

It was a season I’ll not soon forget. Thank you for the adventurous camaraderie guys!

Share your story today!