You would not catch me dead, sleeping on the lip of Sanchez Canyon with Sara, waiting for the sun to rise. Not any more. Once was more than enough.
Sara—the light of my life: intelligent, beautiful, voice like an angel, yadda, yadda, yadda. Ok, so I was going to ask her to marry me at the crack of dawn—letting the fire of the rising sun make the diamond glow red.
We slept well. No, that’s a lie. We hardly slept at all, doing what any healthy couple might do way out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a few pieces of down between us and the rest of the world. Still, we were asleep just before dawn. Maybe we wouldn’t have heard the alarm on my watch—how deeply we were asleep.
First, it was like a train, far in the distance. Then it was a tractor going down the road. Then is was a poorly tuned dump truck rumbling by and we were both awake by this time, and there was this very gamy, manurey kind of smell all around.
The first thing we saw was something that looked like a dust storm, but then I began to make out some hooves there and a pair of horns here and a shaggy massive face. Yeah. A stampeding buffalo herd!
That’ll ruin your sunrise proposal any day!