Head South Pt. 5

We had finally made it to Alabama where we were able to rest. Or at least that was our plan. Our mistake was to stay with my grandparents, and particularly with my grandpa. My grandpa is a teenager's worst nightmare, and at 20, not much better. He finds hanging out or relaxing offensive. I have since grown into my laziness, but at the time, I was still very much ashamed of my lack of productivity. He never failed to let me know how much he disapproved of my generation. At sixteen, when he used to ask me what I had been up to, I knew he really meant what I was doing with my life. He would subtly humiliate me by telling me stories about how he used to peel pulp for 15 hours a day, at the dismal rate of a nickel a tree, after I had just got done telling him how many hours I had been putting in at the Dairy Queen.

Before our group arrived at the condo he rents every winter, I was under the impression our stories of travel, and our fourteen mile hike up and down mountains, not to mention the sight of Nicole's grotesque and slowly recovering clubfoot would be enough to allow us a pass to just sit and relax. We were rudely awakened when he caught us sitting around the television on our first afternoon there. He took a scan of the room and with a clearly disgusted tone in his voice told us, "You gotta get a life". Nicole and Gus who didn't know him that well, thought he might be joking, but Bremner and I knew better. My grandpa started spouting off suggestions of how best we could fill our time, all of which included us not being anywhere near him. We decided to go out on the beach. We had actually had a nice view of the beach from his livingroom all afternoon and there was nothing tempting about it. It was cool bordering on cold, and it was very windy. So windy, the lifeguards had the red flag flying which was a sign to all beach goers that swimming was foolish. But we were from Wisconsin, and terrified to stay indoors with my grandpa, so we decided we might as well get some sun.

We found a spot on the deserted beach and showed the world our Midwestern pale skin. It was even windier than we had expected, and incredibly cold. We felt though, that if we could just lie down in the direct sunlight it would be warm enough to be tolerable. That was actually the best way to describe it. It was tolerable. In fact, I was kind of surprised at how warm it was once we were all lying down. We were in a close row. Bremner was beside me on one end and being twice my size he was blocking the wind from the rest of us. We were all finally getting the rest we needed. Except for Bremner.

Bremner kept complaining about how "bad it sucked". I continued to argue that it wasn't that bad, and he should just quit whining and get over it. "It's still way warmer than Wisconsin" I told him. But there was no consoling him. He kept complaining and complaining until he couldn't take it anymore and got up. It was just after he stood when I got the full brunt of what he had been "complaining" about for the last ten minutes. The sand traveling at twenty miles an hour hit me hard. It stung like hell, and it took me all but 5 seconds to decide enough was enough and I was going to follow Bremner inside. Gus and Nicole quickly left the beach shortly after.

The early spring wind kept us off the beach for the rest of our stay in Gulf Shores, which meant we had to look for other things to do that might pass for activity. Reduced to driving around the town avoiding my Grandpa's condo, we stumbled upon a Hardee's and more specifically their newly introduced slammers. If you are unaware of what slammers were in 2004, they were mini hamburgers. Bremner was unimpressed by the slammer idea.

"I bet I could eat two of those in one bite," he said defiantly.

I wasn't sure how anyone could eat anything in "one bite", so I took the bet. I told him there was no way he could do it, and I would even pay for them if he wanted to try. He quickly accepted the bet.

We went into the downtown Hardee's and ordered two slammers. When we sat down, waiting to be impressed, Bremner immediately knew he was in trouble. The slammers weren't exceptionally small. They were still two buns and a patty that looked about the size of a hockey puck. Now, most people would look at the two hamburgers stacked on top of each other and say "Well, wouldn't you know, I really underestimated the size of these two hamburgers" and give up. Bremner as described earlier, is not most people. You could actually see the doubt in his eyes change after a few seconds into a wild determination. He picked up both hamburgers and began to forcibly lodge them into his mouth and down his throat with his fingers.

Within twenty seconds he was purple and his eyes were bulging out of his head. Nicole had turned away ten seconds ago, and Gus and I were bent over in uncontrollable laughter. That was until we realized Bremner was very seriously choking on two hamburgers. I want to say it was shock that kept me still as my best friend fought for breath. Gus and I were certainly in a state of disbelief as Bermner struggled to get the hamburgers out of his mouth one way or another. I don't want to be too graphic, but he sounded like what I imagine an ostrich would sound like if it fed its giant baby chicks like other birds. He eventually succeeded in clearing the way and gaining back his breath. As he slowly turned a healthier shade of red, we all relaxed and laughed a bit more at the stupidity of the could-have-been headlines. "Grown Man Tragically Chokes to Death on Two Hamburgers".

The scene at Hardee's was just one of the many illustrations to show that it is never wise to bet against Bremner. Not because you'll lose, but because you could kill him.