It was a hiking quartet.
Thea, Brianna, Sean and myself.
Griffith Park.
That mountain down the street.

Instead of taking the normal path to the observatory, we decided to follow a trail marked 19.

It started wide and easy.
Then the incline increased.
The path narrowed to single file.
I became the de facto leader.
The trail turned serpentine.
Crouching morphed into crawling.
Novice climbing began.
Grabbing onto roots and metal rods.

A foursome of brunch bros were above us.
They huffed and puffed and let us pass.
Polite dudes checking their cellphones.

The trail became indecisive.
Left, Right, Up.
Up looked dicey.
Left looked down.
I chose Right and led us to a dead end.
We were beyond the point of no return.

Enter the brunch bros.
Invigorated, they went Up ahead of us.
"I see a fence!" exclaimed the leader.
We followed.
"Can you hop the fence?"

We heard a bit of a rattle and then...


...the sound of a bucket pouring out.
The leader had returned his brunch.


He retched with the gusto of an exorcist.
Copious amounts of brunch sacrificed to the almighty gods.


I counted eight total hurls.
Poor guy.
My fellow hikers stifled their giggles.

The final push to the top revealed we were on the wrong side of the chain link fence of the observatory parking lot.
Scores of people milled about, gawking at the odd savages approaching.
It felt like being on display at the zoo.


We hopped the fence and assimilated back into society.
But not before snapping a picture of the orbit of your anus.