The Adirondacks: Part One-The Drive

Thank you
http://nara-chann.deviantart.com/art/Raccoon-Soldier-542484976

Nothing like traveling six hours to the wilderness to really bond with nature. We saw a bald eagle ravaging its victim, twin baby fawns peering out of the tall grass...and we hadn't even driven five minutes from home yet! Those long car trips really are the stuff of memories. Sydney asking "Is this Lake Placid" a million times, coinciding with every time we passed a body of water larger than a puddle. And you really get to know one another a lot better in the midst of travel opportunities. For instance, Brad made the mistake of telling us about a camping experience he had while in the military. Oh wait...the correct term apparently is bivouac. Anyhoo, Brad and his friends, or should I say comrades,...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This blog has momentarily lost service as the writer is being unjustly yelled at for ridiculing military duty. This writer concedes that the Army is NOTHING like the Boy Scouts or a Russian gulag and apologizes if her writing style causes the well-intended content to appear misleading or misinterpreted as non-patriotic. I heart America and our boys in blue (and green and khaki and camouflage). 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oops...I heart America and our boys (and girls and ?)...~~~

Back to my story (warning:  parts may be censored)...

During midnight maneuvers...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wait! What's wrong with that?!? I swear that there is NO sarcastic tone here!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...a well-organized and strategic attack came out of no-where (Well, technically, it came out of the woods...where they were...camping...bivouac-ing...how do you even pronounce that word?!?!). A rowdy regiment of raccoons swept the site, intent on the squad's MREs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What's an MRE," Sydney asked. "Meal-Ready-to-Eat," I explained. She furrowed her brow. "Like NASA space food," I clarified. "No," Brad roared, red-faced and angry for no apparent reason, "NOT like space food."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So Brad battled these bandits and eventually earned his forestry badge. The end. 
(I grew tired of being censored. I am currently taking a craft class to make an "I heart my First Amendment Rights" sign.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This blog has momentarily lost service as the writer is being unjustly yelled at for again ridiculing military duty. This writer concedes that the Army is NOTHING like the Boy Scouts. The writer DID wonder how the raccoons managed to sniff their way through the military-grade zip-sealed security protection of MRE packaging. "They knew we had them," Brad answered, suppressing a shudder at the memory. "Didn't they also know you had guns," I asked. Conversation in our van inexplicably came to standstill for about an hour. I think I stumped him on that one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syd eventually re-directed the conversation to diving. As she and her father had recently been diving in the Niagara River, both were very enthusiastic about the large population of small mouth bass that they see on their excursions. They considered bringing a small bag of frozen baby shrimp on their next dive to feed the fish. "Wouldn't that make them swarm around you though," I asked, worried. "Well...yeah. Why?" came the answer. I hesitated, fearful of bringing up a sore subject. "I was just a little worried about Brad suffering from raccoon-initiated PTSD."