The Misadventures of J. and Beau: Wedding Ring Retrieval

Yes, we went back to the river in hopes of retrieving the ring.

We were leaving our apartment when our really nice neighbor Neal offered to let us borrow his own fishing net. "Wow, great!" I said imagining something in the way of the elusive butterfly net I had been unable to acquire. When he emerged, I tried desperately to keep a straight face, as he handed over one of those tiny little nets you use to capture your goldfish in a 10 gallon fish tank. "Erm," said Beau. Yeah, I'm sure that'll be JUST GREAT against the current of a major river. Thanks bunches! Nevertheless, we accepted it gratefully and continued on. Beau went out to our storage unit to retrieve our two massive inner tubes, only to find that one of them (his) exploded impressively, leaving behind a waste of rubber. We went back to the sports store we bought the tubes at -- I went to a different part of the store to check out their nets, while Beau went to buy a new inner tube.

When I returned, sans new net, Beau pointed to a small inner tube leaning up against the counter. "That's yours," he said. My brow furrowed. "It looks kinda small," I said. "You said you wanted a smaller one, he said, "that the last one was too big."

This was true. My original tube was so large, that it was hard to just relax in it since the hole was bigger than the crux of my shoulders and knees. Shrugging, but still unsure, I picked up the tube and started walking toward the car. "Remember the woman who looked like she was drowning her inner tube? That's going to be me," I said. The previous week we had seen a woman who had been precariously teetering atop a tube that was just barely peeking above the water. She was not a small woman, but it was not a large tube either. The effect had been rather comical.

We reached the water and headed out. It was early morning since I had to work at Shop-n-Smile later in the day, so it was still cool, not fun tubing weather. Beau hooped and hollered as the water inched up his body. I was too scared to sit on my tube. I put it over my head and down my body, and found, that it stuck right there on my hips, like a giant fucking rubber tutu. I glared at Beau. Finally, resigning myself, pulled it off, placed it back in the water, and gingerly eased backwards into the hole like you're supposed to, and, nearly toppling over, found my ass stuck inside the center of tube, the rest of my body firmly wedged in. I looked like the high school geek who had been stuffed in a trash can by the resident bully. "Great," I said.

Really just wanting to get to the ring-dropped point, we floated along, our faces just an inch from the water as we watched hundreds of rainbow trout swimming by. Like kids, we kept shouting out to each other things like, "Holy cow, look at that one! It's a monster!" We were so intent on the fish that we missed a doe with twin fawns up on the bank, and only noticed her long after we'd passed by. So, it became a joke for the rest of the float - Beau would say, "Oooh look at that fish!" and then I would snap my head up and scan the shore for deer.

Continuing along, I pointed and said, "Wow, look at that bird on the edge of that log. It is so beautiful, what a brilliant color blue! What is that?" I asked Beau. I always expect him to know every item of flora and fauna in existence.

Squinting he said, "Oh, I dunno, maybe a Stellar Jay. Not sure though." Beau continued to muse on what bird it could be. I continued to fawn over the brilliance of its color.

As we finally approached and began to pass it, we both grew silent as we realized just what kind of bird it was.

"Ummm."

"Uhh, that looks like a beer can."

"It is."

"Uh huh, the great 'Stellar Jay.' Don't you mean the great 'Pabst Jay,' or perhaps the great 'Michelob Jay?'

"Shut up."

We reached the general area the ring had been lost in, and met our next difficulty. We both thought once we reached it, we'd easily orient on where it had been dropped, but seeing as how the river was lined with trees and rocks, finding that ONE tree and ONE rock suddenly seemed difficult and confusing. One of us thought it was one, one thought it was the other. We put on our goggles and mask and each began to look, but it became clear very quickly that it was a lost cause. Despite record temperatures, the water still seemed deep and now there seemed to have been an increase in silt, which made the water more murky and covered many of the rocks. After 20 minutes I called off the search. I didn't feel nearly as bad as I had the weekend before, probably because I knew now it really was pointless. Oh well.

We continued on with the second half of the float, me still bitching about my diminutive tube. "You said you wanted a smaller one!" Beau protested. "I know," I yelled back, "But I didn't mean for you to buy me a lifesaver!" Beau then offered to trade tubes, which we did, and as he boarded the tiny tube, I watched in a mix of horror and glee as he flipped, ass over teakettle, into the water. I must have laughed for a full ten minutes after that, each time I pictured his green butt flying into the air. Oddly, he did not find it so amusing.

Continuing on, a man living next to the river dove in with his dog. He said hello and we asked him what time it was. "Oh, about 2pm. Well, after that," he amended. I gaped. As we floated silently onward I whispered, "There's no way it's after 2pm, no way." This was alarming to the both of us since I started work at 4pm and there was still the logistics of finishing the float, driving one car back to the other car in the other town (Lolo) and then driving back to Missoula, showering, and going to work. "He must be wrong, why would he fuck with us like that?" I continued. But Beau was distracted. "Your shoulders look really red," he said, "Real red." This was also alarming, since I tend to be the kind of person for whom the burn magically appears hours after getting out of the sun. If it was already showing itself this brightly, it meant I was in for one helluva burn. Wonderful.

A few minutes later when some fishermen in a boat were rowing by us, we asked them the time. "2:17," one said.

FUCK!

ONCE AGAIN, as in the past two floats, we stood up, grabbed our tubes, and began our usual frantic, splashy march down the river. "I can't believe we're going through this again! I can't believe it's after 2pm! How can that be? It was morning when we left?" Obviously, we had entered some sort of time warp and lost hours of time. There is no other explanation.

We finally made it out, and made the boomerang trip back to Missoula, where I quickly jumped in the shower so I wouldn't have to go to Shop-n-Smile looking and smelling like Swamp Thing (they frown on that). Getting out of the shower, my shoulders and back displayed what could only be described as an abstract art sunburn. Since I actually HAD put on sunscreen, but had not been able to reach my back/shoulders, there were different slashes, chunks, and curvatures around which my skin was burnt to an impressively glowing red. And it just radiated heat. Lovely!

So, I did my shift at Shop-n-Smile, the whole while feeling hot, nauseated, and dizzy. I drank about five glasses of water, each time my mouth becoming cotton dry a short time later, and finally just bought and downed a bottle of orange juice, thinking it was vitamins and electrolytes I needed. It certainly helped.

And I'm certainly a big fat dork.