So after the Wine and Food festival was over, Vanessa and I were walking to the car when I realized that I really had to go. I should have gone before we left and I even commented that to myself but really, only women think of such things before the need arises. So I had a decision to make. We were roughly equidistant between the clean, comfortable and civilized bathrooms back at the festival and the thick brushy field/treeline next to the river. I have come to realize that when it comes to such situations, my inner manliness, that is often suppressed, finds it's way out. So with a grunt of affirmation, I headed for Man's true toilet, the bush. I found a nice spot with ample cover from the other festival goers and did my business. I was wearing my cowboy boots that, for any of you that have worn a pair know, give you the superhuman ability to stomp through anything with a sense of invulnerability. I think this only comes to those of us with a y in our chromosomal makeup. So as I stomped back through the brush I saw a log in front of me and being filled with pride for having displayed my masculinity I thought, "must stomp log too." As I did three things happened seemingly all at once. The first thing, which triggered the next two was that I heard a noise that is only produced by two things in this world, a maraca and a rattlesnake. The chances of there being a mariachi lying in the grass next to the log I just stomped were pretty slim so I assumed it to be the later. The next thing that happened at seemingly the same time was that my superhuman boots allowed me to jump a superhuman distance away from snake, which looked to me to be about 18 feet long. Most rattlesnakes don't grow over 6 feet anymore but at the time I would have sworn it had tripled in size. The third thing that happened seemingly simultaneously was that, as the snake rattled, and I leaped into the air, every bit of the pride I had just felt, every ounce of my elevated masculinity disintegrated in a fraction of a second as I let out a scream that would have rivaled any twelve year old girl's. Thus, what started off as my manly moment of the week, ended in me screaming like a ninny, running from the wilderness to the safety and comfort of my Toyota Corrola. Good thing I have no shame left anyways.