A fight broke out at the Displacement Camp we were at a few nights ago. A man was tied up in a tent screaming, while crowds grew to see what the fuss was about. All the while, Amber, Tiffany, Jill and I sat, staring wide-eyed through the windows of the camp manager’s office, (who sent his wife home because it was unsafe to be there). Our ride was no where to be found, and we couldn’t decide if it was safer to stay in the office, about 20 feet away from the screaming man, or book it to the car and hope our ride was ready to take us home.
A separation in the crowd allowed us to make a quick dash for the car, so off we went. Unfortunately our ride was no where to be found. The sun was setting quickly, which left us cold and scared with thousands of dollars worth of equipment. Then all of a sudden, we saw the Colonel shining in the distance. I’ve never wanted KFC so badly in my life. We quickly picked up our gear, made a mad dash across the street, and ate enough calories to last us the rest of the year.