Two girls and a Native American walk into a cabin...

I have written before about the many virtues of Berry College.  Tonight, as BFF Jen and I were making plans for yet another Mountain Day adventure, a story popped into my head that I realized I had been remiss in sharing with all eight of my fans. So enjoy:

A few years ago, BFF Jen and I decided to go visit Berry - but not for Mountain Day. No, this time we went off the cuff, if you will - and I think you will - and decided to visit in March. Besides going on a non-Mountain Day day, it was also SNOWING as we left for our beloved alma mater. This should have been a sign that our visit was going to be a little nontraditional. But we ignored the warnings.

Say it with me: Dun. Dun. Dunnnnnnnnnn. 

When we arrived at Berry, we found the cabin we were going to stay in. Liz, the super-de-duper check-in gal, said we were the only ones staying in the cabin, even though it could easily hold seven or eight people. We dropped off our stuff in our room and then left for the day, catching up with friends and praying to Martha at her grave. 

When we returned that night, we saw a truck parked outside of the cabin. The porch light was on as well. Then BFF Jen and I had what is possibly the dumbest conversation known to man:

Her: Do you think someone is in there?

Me: I don't know. We could ask the check-in gal.

Her: The check-in office is closed. 

Me: Oh.

Her: So should we go in?

Me: Sure. 

And off we went, wandering into a pitch-black cabin on the most remote part of campus with the distinct possibility of running into a serial killer occupying our cabin. Just a day in the life for us. 

BFF Jen had a plan, though. And if Mrs. BFF Jen's Mom is reading this, I am really, really sorry. Jen decided she would hold open the door while I called out in the hallway to see if someone answered. If a serial killer or even just a regular killer answered, we wouldn't have to waste time opening the door to get out. Brilliant. 

After a couple of "HELLOOOOOOS?" we heard a scraping sound - coming from the room next to ours. Before we could put our award-winning plan into motion, there appeared before us a man that I can only describe as Cloud Dancing from Dr. Quinn meets Chief Powhatan from Pocahontas. 

"'Sup."

He had long, flowing silver hair down to his waist, was half-naked, and looked completely surprised to see us.

"Hello, there," the man said. "Are you staying here, too?" 

I think we managed to nod.

"Okay, great. Well, goodnight." And with that, he turned around, went back up the stairs, and after a few seconds we heard his door shut. Alrighty, then.

Then BFF Jen and I had possibly the second dumbest conversation known to man:

Her: What should we do?

Me: ...ask the check-in gal?

Her: THE OFFICE IS CLOSED, KRISTEN. 

Me: Right, got it. 

Her: So, should we stay here?

Me: Sure.

Ah, but this time we had an even better plan: teamwork. BFF Jen isn't my BFF for nothing - between the two of us there is an understanding that when one of us makes a dumb decision, the other one stands by her come hell or high water. Or strange Native American men. So we put our new and improved plan into place. 

First, we each stood guard while the other one brushed her teeth and used the only restroom, located in the hallway. To get the visual, you have to picture BFF Jen - she is by far the tiniest fully-grown human being I have ever known. And then you have me, the very picture of strength and speed. Together, we made the worst superhero team the world would ever see. But we are nothing if not dedicated and eachstood outside the bathroom door with my tiny can of hot pink (breast cancer awareness, baby!) mace, ready to spray and then run at the slightest provocation.

Eventually we made it into our room. Now that we were inside, how did we keep the man out? He probably had a chainsaw and/or a sword that could cut through the lock. But that didn't matter, because the door didn't lock. Are. You. Kidding me. 

This might be a problem for some people, but not for us - we just adapted to the situation. BFF Jen and I proceeded to stack every single piece of furniture in that room against the door. Nightstands, chairs, wobbly table-thing that had no clear purpose; you name it, we stacked it. 

But we didn't stop there - we set our suitcases against the pile of 1980s furniture to ensure that, in the event the evil murderer made it through the furniture barrier, we would hear our suitcases fall to the floor and would wake up in time to escape. How we thought we could get past a grown man and a 4-foot stack of furniture, I don't know. Clearly event planning is not in either of our futures. 

And, just in case we had to resort to force, we carefully selected some weapons to keep by us on the only nightstand that was bolted to the wall: the pink mace, Jen's curling iron, and my hair straightener. I remember telling BFF Jen, "It heats up in just sixty seconds." Because a good plan is all about how quickly your weapons will heat up. 

Finally, after a long couple of hours listening for noises, we went to sleep. And lo and behold, the next morning we were completely alive! Victory! As we began to dismantle our barrier, I heard footsteps on the floor and froze. 

"Good morning!" the man called through the door. I wanted to open it to be polite, but the furniture was a lot harder to move without the adrenaline rush. "Sorry if I scared you!" he added.

"Oh... that's okay!" I shouted back. "Sorry... we got scared!"

"No problem... I work here," he continued, as if silently pleading me not to call the police and ruin his day. "I know the college president."

"Hey, cool. Me, too." That was really all I could think of at the time.

"Well... anyway, I'm going now. Enjoy your stay." And he was gone, probably glad to be rid of us. Who could blame him?

So, kids, here's the moral of the story: Don't be a moron. And don't go into dark places with strangers. But if you absolutely, positively have to, look for furniture and break out the hair accessories. Works every time.

1979

Have you ever seen the "new" Brady Bunch movies, the ones that make fun of the show? They're fabulous and you should totally watch them. One of my favorite parts is that even though the movie is set in present day (or the 90s; same difference), the Bradys are still living in the 70s - same clothes, same home decor, same phrases. And I can relate, because while the rest of the world was living in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, my family and I were living in 1979.

See, my parents met in the 70s, got engaged in the 70s, and just liked the 70s so much they never left. It was more common to hear the Beatles playing in my house than the Black-Eyed Peas. I didn't even know who Fergie was until she had already rejoined the Black-Eyed Peas. And if you have no idea who I am talking about, don't try to find out - your brain cells are way too valuable to waste them on this.

ANYway, I didn't think much of this until I got to college and had virtually no idea who or what anyone was talking to when it came to music. I've never been a music fanatic or anything (don't tell my dad) so at first I thought I was just a little behind. But when I was literally the only person on my dorm room hallway who had no idea if The Real Housewives of Orange County was the same thing as Desperate Housewives, I realized I had missed more than I thought.

Looking back on it, it all makes sense. My parents raised us on their favorite music and shows - subsequently, I've seen every episode of Happy Days but have still never watched a full season of The Bachelor. And it was so much fun that I just never left my happy little hamlet of grooviness and loving each other, man. This is why I get along with all adults but can't have more than a 6-word conversation with people my own age. This is why Daniel, a self-admitted old man trapped in a young man's body, is perfect for me. And this is why, when in a conversation that I know nothing about, I have developed what I call the Nod And Smile - it appears that I am just as excited as you are about Snooki but inside I am wondering what season of The Waltons is playing on Hallmark this week.

This week on the Waltons: A problem arises that turns out to not be that big of a deal. Stay  tuned. 

But I'm okay with living in the 70s. It was a pretty far-out time, and gas was a lot cheaper. So if you ever have any questions about Journey, Little House on the Prairie, or the war, just give me a call - I do, at least, have a cell phone.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rg56gRJwZOc

Dr. Quinn, Time Traveler

Okay, I know a lot of you might be ready to call for an intervention with me and the Dr. Quinn watching. But I'm so close to the end of the series! And then I'll re-watch it all. Just stick it out with me a littttttle longer and I promise it is going to be GREAT. And I just had an amazing idea... You should all go watch it, too! We could have a party and bond over the good doctor and her crazy, crazy, shenanigans! Come onnnnnn.

Moving on, as I go about these later episodes of Dr. Quinn, a bit of a faux pas has come to my attention. No, it's not the blatant historical errors or the same storyline occurring 17 times in a row. It's the fact that apparently, Dr. Quinn is living in 1996 and not 1872.

Do you remember Little House on the Prairie? My mother-in-law will probably disown me if she finds this out, but I have seen nearly every episode of that show, too. That is a direct result of my mother's love of that show, so you can see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But when you watch LHotP, you notice one distinctive quality that every other episode centers around: the town is po'. The only ones with any money are the doctor and the mercantile owner, and the rest of the town is lucky to be wearing shoes on any given day. They have famine and locusts and fires and Mary goes blind. The parents take turn eating so their 47308 kids can have a crumb now and then. When someone is sick, they're up a plum creek, and might hang on for a few more guest appearances. The train costs approximately half of their life savings to ride.

Switch over to Dr. Quinn. Every single one of these people has money. Even the extremely poor people have enough money to fund their business, adopt 2.5 children, and get them doctored by Dr. Quinn. Silly things like diphtheria and loss of limb and smallpox have little to no effect on these people, and if they are affected it's only for about 60 minutes. They all ride the train 12 times a day, losing a spouse or child is pretty passe because they were probably only a guest star anyway, and the episodes that don't end in song end in Dr. Quinn smiling over her awesome kids and her awesome, rich life. Her husband doesn't even have a job right now and yet they are considering an addition to the homestead for when the baby gets older.

This puzzled me, until I figured it out: Dr. Quinn is clearly a time traveler who has brought all of these people and their money with her back to the 1870s for fun. That would explain why the mercantile is always having sales and why every single business owner wears a gold chain on their vest. It would also explain why she suddenly has knowledge of diseases that mayyy or may have not have been discovered until the 1900s. And why their chief Native American actor is named Larry Sellers.

Time-traveling. You never see it coming until it sews your arm back on with a laser beam.

Dr. Quinn, Idiot Wrangler

Recently I have started re-watching some old Dr. Quinn episodes. I used to love Dr. Quinn. I remember the day my friend Kellan Rankhorn introduced me to the show, and we would watch it together at her house as Dr. Quinn saved the townspeople and sometimes the ones traveling through. It was glorious.

However, as much as I have enjoyed the memories, a few things have stuck out to me that are both odd and hilarious. Which brings us to my great new word: Oddarious.

The first oddarious thing is Sully and his self-translation. He speaks the language of the Cheyenne, the feisty and often-genocided Native American tribe that lives near the town. But instead of using other devices to clue us in on the conversation, like, I don't know, one of the townspeople asking what he said, he just says the English translation out loud to everyone. "Me gusta mi estomago... <pause pause pause> ... I like my stomach." It's weird. At first I thought, okay, we can reasonably assume that he is just translating it because he knows none of the townspeople get it. But then he did it to just the Native Americans. He spoke to them in their native language. And then said it again in English. ...why did you do that, Sully? Do you need me to ask it in a different language first for you to answer me? TELL ME WHY YOU'RE DOING THIS.

The next facet of oddariousness is Dr. Quinn and her whispering. She whispers all the time. Maybe it's for dramatic effect; maybe she has chronic laryngitis. Whatever it is renders her almost mute on my speakers, causing me to turn them up high and then jump fifty feet in the air when someone else speaks at a normal volume, or heaven forbid, shouts something. I seriously considered trying to find a way to close-caption the Youtube videos. I just don't understand why she whispers. She seems totally fine as she says: "Children, let's talk about what we learned today." Then, right as she is about to make her point, her voice drops to a breathy British whisper, and says quietly, "Violence is never the answer." You've got some valid points, Dr. Quinn, but none of us can HEAR YOU. Speak up, sister. How she and Sully manage between him saying everything twice and her whispering an answer back, I'll never know.

My favorite oddarious thing is the stupid, stupid townspeople. I don't like using the word stupid, and I reserve it only for the most deserving things. Trust me, this is one of those things. These people have got to make up the dumbest population in the world. In the beginning of the episode, the shop owner/barber/saloon guy is racist. Then, Dr. Quinn/Sully/Dr. Quinn and Sully give a stirring speech (twice, and whispered) about how we're all equal. The townspeople are appropriately remorseful and vow to change their ways. But then the next week they're right back where they started, trying to beat up or steal from the Native Americans/black people/<insert minority group here>. They were convinced that joining the KKK would be a "fun group for the men to join." They let a guy who beat up a girl continue to run his brothel. THEY HAVE A BROTHEL. That ain't right.

So if you want to watch Dr. Quinn but just can't find the time, let me sum up the series for you:

• Someone is sick.
• This person is also ostracized for <insert race or dark past description here>
• Dr. Quinn doesn't care - she helps them anyway.
• Dr. Quinn gives a dramatic speech to the townspeople.
• The townspeople grump and humph and start to see the error of their ways.
• A dramatic event occurs to truly show them how wrong they are.
• The townspeople say they're sorry to the ostracized person.
• This apology will cause the ostracized person to forget all insults, rock-throwing and barn-burning previously inflicted on them.
• Everyone is friends.

Next week on Dr. Quinn: Someone is sick.