Down for the Count...a Darwin Award Nomination

by Scott

Each year, Darwin Awards are posthumously given to those who have ungracefully removed themselves from the human gene pool. Given that guys are testing their bullet proof vests in their basements, I will have some stiff competition this year. Plus, technically, I'm still alive, but it seems that is only a matter of time. Here's my story.

Heather and I have had the same down booties for about 15 years. In that time, they've lost most of their feathers. While we were back in the states, anticipating the frigid cold of Bolivia, I decided to shop for some new ones. Holy Cow! They go for $80/pair! Being frugal and resourceful, I came up with a plan. For $7, I bought a like-new Land's End down vest at the Salvation Army store.

It didn't take long to realize this was an outside job.

I carefully cut the seams on our booties and spent hours upon hours stuffing them with down transplanted from the vest. It was incredibly tedious work, and I was losing half the down to the wind. Looking around my father-in-law's barn, I came up with an idea. He had a 10-foot long section of 1/2" diameter clear PVC tubing. I figured I could suck the down out of the vest and blow it into the booties. Since the tube was so long, and I could see through it, I thought I could stop sucking before inhaling any feathers. I was wrong. Those things move really fast.

Immediately, I had the kind of ache in my chest you get when the pointy ends of Doritos get stuck in your throat. Three days later, I was googling the effect of having feathers in my lungs. Since the down didn't come from live geese, and Land's End probably cleaned it before putting it in the vest, imminent death seemed unlikely. However, on day 10, I was researching the ramifications of coughing up bloody phlegm. Google said I could do that for a week without concern. Yeah boy. On day 20, I was no longer coughing up blood, but I still had severe bronchitis. My feet, though, were very warm.

This is after. The before shot would've looked like saggy business socks.

I finally decided it was time to try antibiotics. Without going into the above detail, I explained to the Chilean pharmacist that I've had an infection in my lungs for 3 weeks. Without a prescription, she sold me a week long supply of amoxicillin. I took my last pill this morning, yet I still started the day with my routine half hour hack fest.  

Though I'm obviously of unsound mind and deteriorating body, should I finally succumb to these damn feathers, I hereby bequeath my overstuffed down booties to my nephew, Braxson. When they eventually lose most of their feathers, please remember Uncle Scott, and just buy some new ones.

Enjoy the booties, little buddy, and remind Aunt Heather to contact the Darwin people.