Moonstruck

The 18-by-24 inch pages of the AAA Road Atlas are difficult to control on my lap as my eyes and nose creep closer to the type. What mountains are on my left? My knees bend inward to steady the center of my gaze, the peripheries out of mind and definitely out of sight. For that day, at least.

Beth sits to my side, pointing out quickly passing waterfalls (“You missed it!”), ruby red canyons, and mountain ranges on the horizon. We spot bikers on picturesque riverside paths, enjoying the weekday afternoon, some stopping to wave at the oncoming train that disrupts their quiet. Fishermen, knee-deep in rubber boots, cast their flies into the calm waters.

For two days, Beth and I enjoy the serenity of the cooperative wilderness and its polite patrons, from the security of our train’s observation car.

As the terrain changes, so do our passers by. Mountains turn into cliffs, snow caps disappear, and still waters turn rapid. Water-goers no longer stand unprotected; skinny, trusting kayaks are replaced with sturdy, tide-defying tanks. White water rafters abound, some breezing by protruding rocks, others preparing for the next big rapid.

Still others have found a balance or temporary calm. Some of these lucky ones bend over, pull down their swimsuit bottoms, and, in case that wasn’t enough fanfare, slap their own butt cheeks. Their fellow rafters wave fervently at the train, laughter surely escaping from their amused faces as they direct our gaze to their half naked friends.

The mooners delight every member of the observation car, producing laughter and “oohs” and “ahhs” from the 8-year olds and 80-year olds alike. Bored faces light up, children cover their mouths to giggle, couples turn to each other to share their smiles. It’s as if a comedian has come aboard to deliver several consecutive, universally-hilarious punchlines; suddenly we all have a shared history. “Did you see the mooners earlier?” a man with glistening white hair asks me with glee as I pass him in the hallway later.

We pass about twenty different boats, and rafters in at least five take this glorious opportunity in the Colorado wilderness, to defy their own vanity and social norms. Little do they know of their impact onboard the California Zephyr. I think of the many opportunities I’ve had, and passed up, to do the same in recent years. What a shame that I have not been spreading joy near and far with nothing more than my own bum.

Never again will I underestimate the power of a naked butt. I hope you won’t either.

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READER BLOOPERS: Have you ever mooned anyone? How was it received?