TheBanyanTree: The Picnic

[Mark Funk]

The carefully planned and greatly anticipated day finally arrived in late June of that year.  About 20 of us along with our "significant others," spouses and kids, totaling about 50 in all, gathered for our department picnic.  We found a great spot on a small, but adequate, sized lake, right in the heart of the city and close to our office.  The little regional park offered a secluded group picnic area, away from other park users, with a nice place to beach a boat, several picnic tables, and plenty of space for our planned games. Several of us arrived early to launch the boats, tap the keg, set up the area, and get the grill ready.  Our department head, Bert, brought his camp stove and a big, cast iron pot of his baked beans, which supposedly contained his "secret ingredient."  Everything was ready and it looked like it would be a great day. And so it was, for a few hours.  Several people water-skied and went for rides on the boats.  The kids enjoyed a "treasure hunt" for pennies and candy hidden in a big pile of saw dust and the races and contests organized by one member of the staff without any kids (We thought it would be funny to "stick" him with job.)  And we served up liberal quantities of beer, pop, hamburgers, hot dogs, chips, and, of course, Bert's special beans. Everything was going well until we noticed that the sky was darkening to the south and west, across the lake.  Suddenly, the wind picked up and as we watched a wall cloud descended and started toward us over the lake.  Within moments everything started blowing around and water started to pour down all around us.  For a while some of us tried to shelter the grill, still loaded with hamburgers and franks, but we soon had to give up that idea and scramble for cover, along with everyone else. It only lasted a few minutes but our picnic site was in shambles and it was obvious the picnic was over.  Later we would learn that 100 mph straight-line winds were recorded at a nearby airport.  In department lore, this picnic would be known forever as the typhoon!  Bert never told us what his secret ingredient was, but I think I may know.  You see, after the storm, as we picked up the debris, a gob of beans was still stuck to almost every plate.  I think the ingredient may have been glue!