Dave was a man who trusted his GPS a little too much. When the "unpaved road" on his screen turned into a literal swamp, he decided to test the limits of his compact SUV. Five minutes later, his car was high-centered on a hidden stump, and Dave was staring at a three-mile trek to the nearest farmhouse.
He started the walk with dignity, carefully stepping around the puddles in his jeans and favorite t-shirt. But the earth beneath the field was more like quicksand than soil. About a mile in, Dave's left boot didn't just step into a hole--it disappeared into it. As he tried to yank his foot back, the suction won, and Dave performed a spectacular, slow-motion back-flop into the warm, thick sludge.
He sat there for a moment, the mud seeping into his pockets and coating his glasses, and realized that his "rugged" weekend had finally arrived. Instead of panicking about the dry-cleaning bill or his ruined watch, a laugh bubbled up from his chest. He was a tech-support manager who spent forty hours a week in a sterile cubicle; right now, being a muddy mess was the most alive he'd felt in years. He didn't even bother getting up right away--he just sat in the muck, enjoying the absurdity of the afternoon.