Stingy Neddles

When I was young I frequently went on weekend excursions with my best friend Jamie, her mom Lisa, and her little brother Mikey. One weekend in early summer we all piled into Lisa's Chevy Blazer and we took off for Whidbey Island, a frequent destination. This trip we were picking up Jamie's older brother Jesse, who lived with her dad, and bringing him back to the mainland to stay for a few weeks while her dad took an extended trip. When we got to the house we were immediately dispatched outside and out of Lisa's hair for the rest of the afternoon.

With little else to do, we agreed to let Jesse lead us on a hike through the rolling pastures and evergreen forests that make Whidbey Island so picturesque. The weather was sunny and warm but windy as the island typically is. Jesse took us straight into the pastures, weaving over, under and through barbed wire fences. Despite the barriers, we didn't see any livestock, so I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was stepping until I planted a foot into a slick pile of manure. To step in manure is embarrassing enough, but as I tried to step out of it I slipped and dropped a knee into the mess. Now thoroughly mortified and smelling not so pleasant I desperately wanted to return home. I was afraid of getting lost and since no one else wanted to turn back I reluctantly continued on the trek.

I was relieved when we finally reached our destination, a lovely evergreen forest smelling of pine and moss and blessedly free of piles of cow manure. My relief shortly turned to dismay as the skin on my hands, arms and legs began to sting like crazy and white bumps began to appear. It felt like I imagine acid would feel on one's skin, and that in fact was the case for we had just tromped trough a patch of stingy nettles, a short leafy plant native to the Northwest. I had never felt their legendarily painful sting before I was shocked by the agony and immediately began crying. I was not alone in my misery; Jamie was also in pain although not crying as I was. Mikey, who was very little at the time, was wailing at the top of his lungs at the pain. Jesse was indifferent to our discomfort, and seemed to have conveniently managed to avoid the vicious plants. Now I definitely wanted to return to the house as quickly as possible, and was not alone in the sentiment. Jesse assured us that it would take as much time to get home if we continued on so we did. Needless to say no one was having fun anymore. I had managed to stop crying, but just barely. Mikey was inconsolable and hysterical. Jamie was irritated with all of us.

Jesse led us to a shallow icy cold stream that numbed our skin and dulled the pain. Mikey finally calmed down but continued to cry and I was simply relieved to wash some of the cow manure off of me and lessen the pain. Unfortunately we faced a new problem. Mikey wouldn't leave the stream bed because as soon as the water warmed up to our body temperature the pain returned just as painful as before. We still had a ways to go and Mikey wouldn't budge. With sunlight fading fast we knew it wouldn't be long before it would be too dark to see well in the depths of the forest so we spurned Mikey on despite his reluctance. The rest of the journey was a blur of pain, frustration, and bad tempers.

Upon returning, Lisa was furious with Jesse and accused him with intentionally taking us through the nettle patch. He spent the rest of the night in his room, but that didn't seem like a suitable punishment to me. Mikey was immediately placed in an oatmeal, baking soda, or some other equally soothing home remedy bath. I was forced to remain a stinky mess but Lisa did offer to wash my pants for me. Eventually Mikey finished his bath and since neither Jamie nor I wanted to go third, Lisa made us bathe together. I felt a little awkward taking a bath with someone else because that wasn't something I normally did, but the relief from the stingy pain was worth it. I have never been so reluctant to leave the bath tub in all of my life.