show boobs "elk river" missouri canoe

Oh right, thanks for reminding me!

Back on Memorial Day weekend, Floyd, Shawn and I traveled to Noel, Missouri to enjoy yet another lazy trip down the Elk River. It was much like the years past, with a few notable exceptions:

Many of us chose "River Nicknames", which we substituted for our true names while at the Shady Beach campground. I was Hard Tack, Floyd was Hound Dog, Shawn was Ol' Cracked Jug, Brian was Bondo, Kelly was Catfish, Mikey was Lone Wolf, and so on.

Jug, Hard Tack, and Hound Dog enjoy the night. Photo courtesy of Camille.

After an inaugural night campfire-side of drinkin', Mikey decided to forgo more common accommodations to sleep in his truck's bed, even though the bed contained a small mound of dirt. Using some spare tent poles and a tarp, he was successfully sheltered until sunrise, when a storm front moved through. After the second 40 mph wind gust blew off his tarp, Lone Wolf called out. "Uh, guys? Help? Uh, truck tent? Nathan? Hound Dog? Help?"

The river float was as usual, except we manned four-man rafts instead of two-man canoes. Hillbillies begged girls to flash their breasts in exchange for beads or beers. Many obliged, including one teenager with a tramp stamp tattoo that read "Live, Laugh, Love".

Shady Beach is a nice place to camp, a full-service facility that sells ice, firewood, and even a reasonably priced lawn chair to replace the one that Hound Dog neglected to pack. Up near the general store are the toilets and showers, a busy building after a long day on the Elk River. While I enjoyed a brief, hot shower, I listened to the one-sided conversation between two fellow Shady Beachers waiting for an available stall.

GUY: "You have a good time on the river today?"

FATHER: "Same ol' same ol'. Not enough beers, not enough boobs. My oldest there, he's eleven, he almost saw his first pair of pierced titties today, but he didn't look in time. Wha -- hey, get over there! Get in there, git goin'! Hell, you remind me more and more of your mother each day. She would dawdle too, that's why I divorced her ass.

Knowing the soap and water could not wash away what I had heard, I left the restroom, walked back to the campsite, and ate three hot dogs.
I grabbed my towel and brushed off