Cattle Crossing

Cows are everywhere in Switzerland, even on the mountains. They kept to themselves most of the time, but for some reason the herd along the Mountain View trail wanted to get all up-close-and-personal when my hike cut through their pasture. I noticed several of the animals had stopped grazing and were staring at me intently, so I verbally reassured them that I was just passing through. As a friend to all cows, I implored them not to squash me with their massive beefiness. However, as I skirted cautiously around the herd, two of the hefty animals began meandering towards me. I veered off the trail and powerwalked directly up the mountain, hoping the incline would deter them; but these were no ordinary cows. To my surprise, not only were they following me, but they too had picked up the pace: first to a saunter, then a brisk trot, and then a full-fledged run... straight at me! By this point, I stopped pretending to play it cool and frantically dashed across the mountain, with the two cows still in hot pursuit. Never have I witnessed such bovine agility! Luckily, my years of trail running paid off, and I eventually made it safely over a fence. I don’t know what would have happened if these deranged heifers caught up with me, but I’m glad I didn’t have to find out!

Egg drop

I think birds like to aim for cars when they poop. We’ve all experienced this at some point in our lives, but as I was heading home from school the other day, I stopped my car under a tree and… splat! A small cream-colored EGG dropped from the sky and smashed onto my windshield! What the blazes? I was stunned! Was this some kind of pigeon prank? (Hey Polly, betcha can’t hit that gold Toyota—first shot!) Or maybe accidents happen and Momma bird just missed the nest? Regardless, there was now a slimy yellow goop almost obstructing my vision, so what did I do? I turned on my windshield wipers. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but within 0.3 seconds that egg was smeared all over the glass. And what’s even more bizarre is that by the time I got home, the hot Texas sun had cooked it partway through, so I literally had to scrape a layer of sticky scrambled eggs off my windshield. [I almost put it on some toast and gave it to my roommate, but the dead bugs sprinkled throughout would have been a giveaway.] Slightly frustrating, but I have to admit, that was a really nice shot.

Geriatric selfie

One of my new goals is to teach my cute little Grandma how to take a selfie. Wait, let’s be real: a more accurate statement would be “teach, and then try to convince my Grandma to take a selfie.” This is a fairly ambitious goal for a granny who hates getting her picture taken, does not get along well with technology, and has no interest in social media—but wouldn’t that be awesome? Man on a mission.

**Update: Several weeks later, Grams agreed to give it a try as long as I'd stand next to her. Fair enough. Little did she know, I'd put the camera on burst mode so it would take a bunch of pics. I figured one of them was bound to work out. Well... the first ~20 looked like this:

But then the planets aligned! Proud of this spunky little lady. There you have it, my very own Grandma in the perfect geriatric selfie:

[Just don't tell her I posted this...]

Attack of the leftovers

(This is what the internet
says germs look like.)

I'm living proof that not all med students are germ-a-phobes. I’m a big believer in letting kids eat a little dirt, I view the "10 second rule" as merely a suggestion, and I'm not afraid to touch door handles with my bare hands. “It’s good for your immune system,” I always say. And it is. That being said, we had exam week at med school and then a short break for summer, so I was studying my brains out. I didn’t have a lot of time to cook, plus I wanted to eat all the stuff in my fridge so it wouldn’t go bad while I was gone. Great plan, except I ran out of real food the last couple days, and decided to just eat some leftovers I found in the depths of my fridge. I figured I’d just microwave them for a few extra minutes to kill off any lurking microbes. So I did… and got to spend the first two days of my vacation sick. But my immune system is relentless and eventually won the battle. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger—right? [Translation: the same thing will probably happen again next finals week, but this time my body will be ready.]

Autocorrect fitness feat

I sent a seemingly ordinary text the other day, only to find out afterwards that autocorrect struck again. Twice in the same message I meant to say "just visited" but my phone changed it to “deadlifted.” (They’re not even close on the keyboard?) Result: "It was a great weekend, I deadlifted an old roommate. I hear you deadlifted your family?" Total bewilderment.

Reminded me of a few days ago when autocorrect changed the name of my friend to "Rostropovich." Apparently my phone thinks I hang out with late Russian composers on a regular basis.
  

Just drink, don't think

Anyone else get a little uneasy when using a drinking fountain outside a public restroom, and suddenly the stream of water goes down whenever you hear a toilet flush? Probably a perfectly sound (and sanitary) explanation for this, but it still seems questionable to me…

Where’d that come from?

Sometimes my dreams cause me to reevaluate my sanity. Bizarre storylines and sudden plot twists are relatively normal, but the other day I woke up and was so amused with the random interplay that had just taken place in my head that I had to write it down: I was an employee at a local ice cream shop and was just getting the hang of “scooping” the cones when my boss informed me that we would now be selling airplanes in addition to ice cream. The next day I sold several double chocolate ripples with a B47-bomber on the side. It was a hit! But as I drove home from work that night, my car decided to turn into a cow, so naturally I had to tie it to the neighbor’s fence or it would wander off. Well my neighbor wasn’t so keen on having a heifer in his yard, so he came out yelling and screaming. Luckily, my friend’s mom drove by and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. I try to avoid hanging out with my friends' moms, and I hate the mall, but I like them both better than angry neighbors, so I jumped in. However, when we got there, she decided to try her hand at karaoke but was so awful that I left. Of course, I didn't make it very far before being kidnapped by a band of ancient mummies who honestly believed they were abominable snowmen. They took me to their secret hide-out (classic) and then dumped me onto a table and told me they wanted me to join their group. I was confused by 1) their existence, and 2) their identity crisis, so I told them I didn’t want to be a mummy or a snowman. However, we could still be friends. They thought this was a splendid compromise, so we all went merrily on our way home. Moral of the story: hmmm... no idea.

Yeah, I got milk.

Whenever I drink chocolate milk I am reminded of the hilariously-unfortunate incident that occurred several years ago in the middle of my school cafeteria. You remember those refrigerated drink dispensers? Well on this particularly fateful day when I returned for a refill, I lifted up on the nozzle and the dispenser ripped clean-off. It had just been refilled, so all five gallons of chocolaty-goodness came rushing out in one sticky tidal wave that decimated both my attire and my reputation. (But who needs those anyways?) Nobody said a word. Nobody dared to move. It seemed like time had stopped, and I could feel the eyes of the entire cafeteria on my back as I stood there, dripping with dairy and laughing at the absurdity of what had just happened. Lets just say I needed a lot of paper towels.

Couldn't help it

North Pole, Alaska

5-year-old words of wisdom

   While camping recently with a church group, we decided to roast s’mores and Starbursts around the fire. (Duh, isn't that mandatory?) One of the guys brought his kids along, and I couldn’t help but notice little 4-year-old Eli struggling to get his Starbursts onto the skewer. I offered him my expert advice and we immediately became friends. Over the next two days Eli taught me many valuable lessons that I just had to share—for the sake of humanity:

1) Dolphins use echolocation, like this: "ee-ee-ee" to find things in the water. But it won't work for people if you lose your flashlight...

2) When you’re four years old you’re too little to go fishing, but not when you’re five. Sometimes you don’t catch any fish though, you only catch something green and slimy. I think it's called “mosst.” You have to put it back.

3) Medium fires are the best ones for camping. Large fires are way too big—they go all the way around the whole earth! (Complete with dramatic arm demonstration of their vast size)

4) It’s not good to eat rocks because people are allergic to them. If you eat them, you’ll get sick and die. But don’t worry, there’s no rocks in burritos.

Insect assault

Bees seem to have this dreadful mentality of ‘sting first, ask questions later.’ Part way through my run, one of these little buggers flew directly into my open mouth and stung me in the kisser. Talk about audacity. Here I am miles away from my apartment, tired, sweaty, and dehydrated with a lip that’s ballooning to epic proportions. There was a sprinkler on in the front yard of a house across the street, so I did the only thing I could think to do—I crouched down and stuck my head in the stream. Hopefully they weren't looking out the window... Whenever I heard the sound of a car approaching, I’d pull away and pretended like I was inspecting the grass until they’d turned the corner. (It was nice grass.) Believe you me, there’s nothing quite like trying to suck on a sprinkler in the middle of a stranger’s front yard with a big-ol’ fatty lip.

Almost heroes

Last week a girl I had just met told me that I reminded her of a Disney character. I braced for the worst, but was surprised when she replied: “you look just like Hercules.” My moment of glory had finally come! For a few short minutes I basked in the notion that someone would compare me to an immortal superhero who eats monsters for breakfast. Then she finished her thought: “You look just like Hercules—before he got all the muscles." Deflation...

Lucky me

One of my (unfulfilled) childhood goals has always been to find a four leaf clover and thus lay claim to my hefty portion of wealth, fortune, and prosperity that would undoubtedly follow. But despite all my efforts, the only thing I ever got was a handful of dead plants. So the other day when some friends and I were cutting through a vacant field, I made some wry comment about it and then leaned down to prove my point. Low-and-behold, the first stem I plucked had four leaves! I was shocked, not only with the irony of the situation, but because it was actually a lot uglier than I expected...In cartoons they always have such perfectly formed, symmetrical leaves—but in the real world, four leaf clovers actually look like the genetic mutants that they are. The extra leaf was substantially larger than the other three, and stuck out awkwardly in the back. It was anticlimactic, but hey, bring on the fortune.

Inflatable inflammation

(Blow up death trap)

You may feel  'light-as-air' bouncing around on these giant balloons, but rest assured, you’ll still fall like a rock. We were racing through a colossal inflatable obstacle course that was so big it was made of two separate portions that were lashed together. Not to toot my own horn, but I was kicking some trash on my first few runs through this beast. However, while racing my toughest opponent I scurried up the second incline and then catapulted myself down to the base of the climbing wall. Big mistake. I landed where the two segments had been pieced together and slid right through the seam, slamming into the concrete below. It’s an impressive feat to fracture your tailbone on a balloon obstacle course, but somehow I managed. Five weeks later it still hurts to sit down…

Math whiz quiz

Today was one of those mornings when my brain was on vacation. It didn't matter that I had a physiology exam to take, I could not focus. In a last minute attempt to jump-start my intellectual dexterity, I began quizzing myself with some multiplication problems on the way to the test. I took the first two random numbers that popped into my mind and multiplied them together, which was fine until I attempted 18 x 37. After pausing for a moment and doing my darnedest to conjure up the answer from somewhere in the depths of my brain, I realized: "oh wait, I don't know this one. Even when I am awake..."

Pants Thief

After my workout at the university fitness center the other day, I came back to my gym locker to find quite a surprise. Somebody had broken into my locker and stole my pants! You heard me right, my favorite pair of khakis were nowhere to be found—along with my cell phone, keys, and hospital ID badge that were in the pockets. Whoever it was must have liked my style because the pants were folded at the bottom of my locker, and the thief moved everything else out of the way, snagged my pants, and then put it all back in place. Running shoes, watch, backpack—all untouched. So I had to wear my running shorts around for the rest of the day. (Which looked awesome. Polo shirt and dress shoes with a lot more leg than I usually show in public…)

     The next morning, one of my classmates posted a picture on Facebook of him holding up my khakis with a caption saying: ‘Spencer Cope, we found your pants in the middle of the parking lot last night.’ And sure enough they were, in fact, my lost trousers. I think everyone in the world saw the post before I did, because I was completely baffled when I showed up for class the next day and people I hadn’t even met were coming up to me and making pants jokes. Even now, two weeks later I’ll introduce myself to someone and they'll say “oh yeah, you’re the guy who lost his pants in the parking lot.” Slightly embarrassing, but a good laugh nonetheless. (Except for the fact that I had to buy a new cell phone…)

Acorns the size of TX

I was walking through the campus last week when I noticed an oak tree with the most ridiculously huge acorns I've ever seen! They were seriously racquetball-sized. I stopped to grab a couple, but the real monstrous ones were still hanging in the uppermost parts of the tree. So naturally, I took my shoe off and heaved it into the top boughs. You're probably expecting me to say it got stuck amidst the branches, but believe it or not my shoe flew straight and true. I did, however, get some great looks from the medical professionals walking by.

Manic Monday

   Our cadaver dissection was taking much longer than anticipated, but we couldn't leave until the vertebral artery was exposed. Finally, 2 hours behind schedule, we wrapped things up and I headed off to the scrub machine. When I got there, however, the machine was full. No big deal, I'll just go up to the eleventh floor and use the other scrub machine. "Closed," wouldn't you know it. No clean scrubs tonight.
   So I grabbed my books and headed for the shuttle. I joined the other students at the bus stop, and after half an hour of small talk, I began to get suspicious. It should have been here... Just then, a university police officer pulled up on his segway (awesome, I know) and informed us that we had already missed the last bus. So I embarked on the long and arduous journey by foot. Oh yeah, and it was 102 degrees outside. A little while later, I'm cutting across the now empty parking when I notice something rather unfortunate. The back tire of my car had blown out in the heat. I rummaged through the trunk and set to work putting on the spare. Did I mention it was 102 degrees, and I was in the middle of an unshaded, black asphalt parking lot for almost an hour? (The jack was stuck) By the time I made it to the tire store, I was a hearty blend of motor oil, sweat, & formaldehyde. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, I had to shovel out $250... Not all stories have happy endings. [Unless maybe you're the tire mechanic]

Not-so-fun run

Some people run when they’re being chased, crossing a busy street, or trying to get out of the rain; others run because they actually enjoy it. I’m one of those guys. But my last marathon was a little bit different. I barely got any sleep the night before, and I wasn’t feeling so hot as I pounded out the first several miles—but I’ve never stopped mid-way through a race, and I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun. Let’s just say my stomach had different intentions, and the carb-loading I'd done the night before ended up all along the side of the road. Not once, not twice, but six different times. (I’ve never been so grateful to see a port-a-potty.) However, I did finish the race.

   What really cracked me up was the face of this lady that I kept passing. She was never close enough to actually see me exit the course, yet each time I stopped to spew she’d pass by. Then I’d get back on the road and catch up to her again. She was absolutely bewildered watching me disappear around the corner in front of her, and then a few minutes later pass her again, and again, and again. Poor lady must have thought the miles were going to her head...

Sleeping Beauty

My sister can be quite a deep sleeper, so I got creative yesterday during her Sunday nap. You should have heard the scream when she finally woke up and saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror--she had no idea anything had happened! That's what brothers are for, right?

(Yep, that is a Moses doll, and yes, it does say "I love cows" on her forehead. Boo-yah.)

No waiting on this waiter

     I have always wanted to be a waiter. Restaurants are one of my favorite places because you deal with delicious food and making people happy. What could be better than that? So this summer, I decided to make my dreams come true. My good friend Chet served a church mission in Italy, and has been working at a little Mom-and-Pop Italian restaurant for several years now, so he was able to get me a job with him at "La Dolce Vita". The only thing is, the owners and kitchen staff don’t speak English. They communicate almost entirely in Italian or Spanish, so my on-the-job training was...virtually non-existent. I had a few minutes of quick instruction from Chet (which was very helpful) but then the customers began pouring in by the hoards. Apparently it was Prom night, and things were about to get crazy. Since Chet spoke English, I figured I’d just follow him for the evening to learn the ropes. However, when the entire place filled up with hungry high schoolers, the waiters became so frantic they asked me to take a few tables. I'm not shy, so I agreed to the adventure.
      To my credit, I did pretty well for having virtually no experience and only a few minutes of training; however, when I started getting peppered with questions about the menu, I knew I was in trouble. "What dessert options do you have? Can I substitute this for that? What's your recommendation?" I chuckled to myself and thought Hmm, great questions. I have no idea... One of the ladies asked me if she could have white sauce on her Cannelloni. The cani-what? Is that an entree, drink, or a dessert? I assured her that we could put white sauce on just about anything. [After employing my Spanglish skills in the kitchen, it turned out I was right. Whew!] Once my orders were ready, I faced another predicament. There were trays and trays of pasta piling up in the waiters area, each smothered with sauce and sprinkled with cheese. Crud! I don't know which plate is which? They all just look like pasta to me! The kitchen staff was yelling for me to take my food to the customers, so I grabbed the trays and did the only thing I could think of. I picked up one of the dishes and asked the first guy at the table if this looked like what he ordered. He stared at the plate and said "beats me?" So I asked the next guy, and—by process of elimination—everyone got fed. I may have switched a few orders and possibly misguided a customer or two, but I was having a blast! That's what happens when you ask a brand-new waiter in a completely Italian restaurant to take tables one hour into their first day...

Oh, I brought those

Just got back from a party a few of my friends were hosting. It was great--they provided the entertainment, decorations, and I assumed most of the food.The homemade salsa and drinks were incredible, but when I took a few bites of a powdery-looking cookie, my tastebuds quickly revolted. They were stale, dry, and crumbled all over when you tried to eat them. Worst cookies ever! The girl standing next to me asked about them, so I leaned in close and quietly whispered "they're not that great, I don't recommend them." She sort of smiled halfway and said, "oh, I brought those..."

Camel farm

I love all of my grandparents, but when I was growing up it was Grandma and Grandpa Smith that I really wanted to visit because they lived on a farm. There was so much space to run around, and their animals were quite exotic to a city-raised kid like myself--especially the horses that my cousins and I would ride for hours. I've decided that when I grow up I want to be the type of grandpa that my family is excited to visit. I did a study abroad at the BYU Jerusalem center a few summers ago, and one of the highlights of my trip was getting to ride a camel along the banks of the Nile in Egypt. I can't explain why, but these bizarre creatures absolutely fascinated me, and on my way back to the states I had an epiphany that (in my mind) is pure genius: I am going to own a camel farm. Forget the horses, what kind of youngster wouldn't want to ride an eight-foot woolley pachyderm around the neighborhood for a few hours? "Hey kids, who wants to go see Grandpa Spencer?"  Why, everyone does of course!

Random restroom renegade

Ugh, gender differences... The Richards Building is the hub for fitness, sports, and dance events on campus. That being said, it's loaded with gymnasiums, racquetball courts, swimming pools, recital halls, and all sorts of restrooms to accommodate the variety of demands these activities impose. I've spent my fair share of time in and around this building, but the second story dance wing still remained somewhat of a mystery to me. That is, until last week. There was a formal event taking place in one of the auditoriums, and (as always seems to happen) there was a mad-dash to the restrooms during intermission. As I mentioned, I don’t know this section of the building very well, but I know there were restrooms somewhere down the hall. My mind is wandering as I make my way through the masses of people. At this rate, there is going to be a killer line I think to myself, so I decide to go a little further in search of another restroom. After a short walk, I see the familiar gender-designating sign on the doorway that several girls have just entered, so naturally I walk a few more steps and enter the next restroom. As soon as I turn the corner, I’m taken aback by the absence of any urinals. Hmm that’s strange... Oh crud! Suddenly it clicks, and I realize I'm not in the Men's restroom.
       No big deal, right? I’m sure many guys have accidentally gone into the wrong bathroom. Well, things were about to get even more interesting. As soon as I recognize my mistake, I hear several voices behind me and the door starts to open. You know how in emergency situations time seems to freeze, and your mind works a billion miles an hour? This was one of those times. In a split-second, I realize several girls are about to walk around the corner and find a man standing in the middle of their bathroom, looking like a deer in the headlights. Awkward all around. So I make a beeline for the corner stall. I’ll just wait until they leave, that way no one will even know I was here... It seemed like a good idea to me, but apparently bathrooms are the estrogen-socializing capitol of the world. For crying out loud, these girls were chatting-it-up right outside my stall for several minutes! Then all of a sudden it went dead-quiet. Wait, what’s going on? Is this a normal part of the female bathroom experience, or should I be panicking? Apparently one of them had seen the bottom of my dress slacks and size 12 shoes under the stall door, and after a flurry of not-so-quiet whispers, they sounded the girl-alarm and rushed out of the room. What do I do now? I raise my feet off the ground and rest them against the wall in attempt to hide my man-legs until I can determine if the coast is clear. Just when I decide to make a dash for it, the bathroom door swings opens again and a deep, booming voice asks “is somebody in here?” Great. I can’t believe this is actually happening. The girls had grabbed the janitor, who was determined to flush me out, pun intended. Of course he didn’t believe my story, and geez, did I ever get an earful as he escorted me out the door and past the three chatty-Kathies who were now giving me the look-of-death. It was a whole new level of awkward. I don’t know whose bright idea it was to put two womens restrooms right next to each other, but I guarantee they’d reconsider if they had to spend 20 minutes trapped in the corner stall…

Its a fashion statement

Half-way through my Pathophysiology class today the girl sitting behind me leaned over and asked me if I knew that my polo shirt was on inside-out. I thought it was a joke until I looked down and noticed the stitching on my sleeves were clearly outside. I told her I was making a fashion statement...then I busted up laughing because I actually had no idea that I'd gone the entire morning with my shirt inside-out. Good thing the tag on my back made it obvious to everyone else.

They dont teach manners in Medical School

[Not the actual Dr P. Just
a stock photo I found
on the interwebs]

Job shadowing at the hospital is essential for medical school applications because it gives us pre-med students a chance to really experience healthcare firsthand. But some learning experiences are more painful than others… Doctor P was an intelligent woman who probably didn't mean to come off as rude, but social interactions were definitely not her strong point. As I followed her through her rounds, I asked a question here and there—just like I usually do with the doctors I'm shadowing. Most of them love imparting their vast stores of medical knowledge to easily impressed pre-med students who'll believe anything they say. But apparently Dr. P is not “most doctors.” I asked her about some of the treatments, diseases, and terminology that she had used on one of her patients, and after a minute, she turned to me and said "you know Spencer, I'll just give you my medical dictionary so you don't have to keep asking what some people would consider to be stupid questions."  (Very awkward pause) Wait seriously, did you really just say that? I spent the rest of the morning chuckling quietly to myself in disbelief; and what made it even better was that we still had 2 more hours of shadowing to go! I decided to save the rest of my questions for a doctor who actually cares…