No small children were harmed in the practicing of carries and drags.
So Monday loomed, dark and maybe not as depressing as it sounds. That was… 1 week previous. On said Monday, we had to deal with a bunch of screaming humans, oh, and awards. Those were also important, yes. Awards, which were very certificatey and lanyardy. The stitching was impressive though, can’t fault the makers for that. Our entire Troop was present as people got handed a bunch of different awards, ranging from: “Trailman of the Year” to “Land Of Legend”.
That wrapped up pretty neatly, and someone must have been handed the bow, so us Navigators and Adventurers skedaddled. Now I tend to have X amount of guys to teach stuff, but zombies. I had five in addition to myself – less than usual, and it was not pretty. Children were screaming as they were dragged across the floor, people were pretending to be unconscious as they were examined and then forcibly lifted over people’s shoulders. It was chaos, taking the form of First Aid Carries. Oh, those devilish happenings. We starting small, with the walking assist. It sounds simple enough, but when you have about 4 guys shouting at each other in a tiny room, it suddenly drives you insane. I finally got their attention, and had them assist some helpless dude with a “broken” leg, which they successfully did for a few steps… before dropping the practice victim like a sack of potatoes.
It was not a happy day to be a victim.
From the one-man assist, we moved to two-man assist, concerning an unconscious body lying face down, and probably alive, but he was convincingly dead enough looking for us to not feel too bad about struggling with picking up his figure. The guy in question should not have weighed that much, because he was a kid. Alas, it proves what weaklings we probably are. At last, us humans who had the strenuous task of demonstrating got both the victim’s arms over our shoulders, carried him X amount of feet, right before unceremoniously dropping him as my associate was overcome with exhaustion. We were satisfied with our results, and we moved on to the second portion: drags.
Dragging assists are not normally pretty or convenient, and even more so when we had rowdy children who seemed to relish each bit of carpet burn obtained by their fellow-Trailmen. It looked about as painful as pain feels. Blanket assist, no biggy, even though we didn’t have a blanket. We used a jacket, and managed to move my disproportionately large (with regards to the jacket) friend a few steps before said jacket threatened to tear. We left that one, and moved to shoulder drags. Gripped under the arms, we moved the victim with each slow, wavering step, leaving his legs ouchied all over. I confess, we did not feel much sympathy. Just don’t ask them how they got those scars, because ankle drags followed, the most unceremonious drag of all the drags. That drag is last resort. Head injuries are not cool, unless you survive, then maybe they’re cool. It’s debatable.
At last, we finished carries, and er… well, that was Monday. Ermegersh, now it’s Mernday agern. Before we venture into the snow-laden world, we return to Saturday, because singing in the cold.
Early Saturday morning, wearing coats and gloves and hats and headgear, as well as hoods that made us look shady, my sister and I arrived at Kroger… to assist in my friend’s Stars & Stripes Project, phase… 3. We’ll go with phase 3 until she corrects me. So we stood, talking nonsensically, and occasionally handing out things that were – according to the lady person – bookmarks. It was confusing. We traded a rather large amount of friendly insults, and saw two old staff people, who seemed to thrive in the cold weather by eating a loaf of bread. Don’t ask, it was weird.
So we stood there, accosting passersby as boldly as we dared, and asking them to help with a Baby Supply Drive. Yeah, Kroger people are cool. Needless to say, we basked in the sun’s glow once it had a more pronounced presence in the sky. There was some discussion of long coats, Irish dancing, songs of the type that drive people to lunacy, and desires for Ale-8.