Felix Daniel Velasquez

Composition 100
Professor Andaluz
October 21, 2022

A Surreal Experience at The Cozy Cabin

Cross-country season was fun, but all good things must end. Several weeks before the

trip, we rented a log cabin on the Big Island. I knew I was eager to have a look, but curiosity

couldn’t get the better of me. I let the season play out and waited until the end, like reading an

essay without easter eggs. Fortunately, after a claustrophobic and murky car ride, my team and I

arrived at the Airbnb; it was remarkable, to say the least.

Since we brought a large group with us to states, we had to drive multiple cars to the

Airbnb. Maddox, Tanya, Grace, Daisy, and I rode in Coach Lindy’s mediocre rental van. When

we all took the first step on the gravely driveway, we collectively felt the refreshing breeze of

cold air, like a glass of cold tap water. On the outside, the Airbnb was a mansion compared to a

log cabin during colonial times. It had an uninviting, semi-spherical undersized red garage, a

marvelous hardwood porch sitting under the roof, and even a mini outhouse where the owner

lived. “How do you like the place?” asked chaperone Cassie. “It's not bad – not bad at all,” I

said gently. “Let us have a tour inside the Airbnb,” stated chaperone Lindy. When we walked in

and took a few glances, the smell was identical to the outdoors – reminiscent of morning dew. It

didn’t feel much different either; my feet were freezing in my socks. The Airbnb offered a

placidly checkered floor for the kitchen, long-legged narrow stairs, compact individual rooms

similar to solitary confinement cells, and a master bedroom fit for a queen. It also accommodated

a living room fortified by a U-formation of brown cushioned sofas with an old straw rocking
chair in the corner. The grand scheme of the Airbnb was how it was floored and walled. The

perimeter was laid out with cylindrical logs – the flooring so thin we could hear the obnoxious

noises from the second story. As a group, we dozed off at the complexity of the Airbnb; before

we knew it, it was time for a delectable meal cooked by Maddox, Tanya, and Layla.

My friend Maddox is assertive because while we were exploring and playing a

Generation Z card game, he hung a curtain inside the kitchen door to surprise us. Tanya played

along with cooking the spaghetti while Layla – the trendy social media girl, set up the table.

After half an hour, Maddox drew the curtain and called us all down for lunch. As soon as we

walked in, we were welcomed by the palatable smell of Italian cuisine – what an oscar worthy

performance! At the counter stood a solid metal saucepan containing soupy tomato sauce,

strong-smelling crusty garlic bread, and a wider saucepan filled to the brim with noodles. I

grabbed a rough yet smooth plastic plate, used a skillet to put spaghetti on my plate like an ant

mound, drenched it in tomato sauce then dipped the garlic bread in the concoction. When I sat

down and took the first bite, the garlic bread crunched like a bag of potato chips – the salty garlic

flooded my taste buds, and the blood of the tomatoes melted in my mouth after the spaghetti

slithered down my throat. I was so moved that it took me a minute to inhale all the spaghetti on

my plate. “How do you like the spaghetti?” asked Charlotte. “If I could eat this every day, I

would,” I replied kindly. I consumed so much spaghetti I could hear my stomach acid slushing

like an ICEE at Pizza Hut. The next aspect of our itinerary was to make a creative slogan for

team bonding. So, I met with my friends Daisy, Grace, and Ellie to explore the backyard.
 As a group, we again felt the stimulating flurry of air around the cabin. The yard was a

little disappointing; all it had was an array of stepping stones leading to a sturdy foundation

shadowed by a wooden roof. In that make-shift shelter were typical dining arrangements like a

heavy metal grill and a bench connected to the ground, like what you would find at a beach.

Before we sat down on the sandpaper-like benches, there was forestry in every direction; it

remained clear this Airbnb was concealed within the woodlands. The clouds that covered the sky

looked so dark they were about to cry. My friend Grace suggested we do a spin-off of the 3

Musketeers theme song for our presentation; we unanimously agreed. After 15 minutes, the

clouds decided they’d heard enough and punished us by sending down a behemoth rain shower.

Frantically, we rushed to the door; to our surprise, we turned the doorknob but to no avail. Even

more distraught, we banged on the door like chimpanzees until chaperone Lindy opened the

door. We continued rehearsing despite there being white noise in the background. Dinner came in

the snap of a finger, so we waited in anticipation.

The sunset revealed a flamingo-tinted sky gloomily blanketed by towering clouds. It’s a

clear indication of a third supper before bed. So, my friends Audrey, Aidan, and Byron made an

assortment of dishes involving bread. The kitchen was a mini Panera Bread; the countertops

hosted craggy pieces of garlic bread, salty tortilla chips, and grilled cheese sandwiches. Aiden,

Audrey, and Byron looked professional; they wore fluffy tall chef hats, fake mustaches (which

meant nothing compared to my authentic manly one), and long flowing white aprons at calf

length. The whole time, Audrey spoke in this insufferable but humorous Italian accent. “You

sound Russian,” Charlotte said. After we chowed down on 50 pounds of bread, we laid

fat-bellied on the U-shaped sofas to watch an inspirational cross-country movie called

“McFarland.” It is a crime against humanity to spoil movies like McFarland, but I enjoyed the

plot. My favorite part was the touching instrumental national anthem and flashbacks of previous

races; it almost brought me to tears. After that, we immediately went to bed to get some shut-eye.

All the girls slept in their tightly-packed bedrooms; the boys slept in the living room. However, I

was a coward and huddled under the heaviest blanket in the world. Fortunately, the room was so

cold I was not cooked from the inside out like a microwave. In a heartbeat, it was the next day.

The room was silent since I was the first one up. So I took this opportunity to cautiously

tip-toe around the cold house. I crept into the kitchen to see plates trapped in glass cabinets and a

cleverly built countertop with a built-in stove. Next, I climbed the stairs to view vast forestry and

asphalt roads in the distance. All but one door was closed – the door to the master bedroom was

wide open. My little tour was short-lived since the rest of the team woke up in short succession.

Chaperone Cassie assigned Ellie, Grace, Daisy, and I for breakfast duty. We decided breakfast

burritos and fruit salad would be delightful for the team, so we hopped to it. Grace and Ellie

chopped the ham, cooked the eggs, and folded foot-long burritos. Daisy made a make-shift menu

with sharpie and cardboard while I helped with the fruit salad, set the table, and made paper

swans out of napkins. While I cut the apples, the juice oozed out onto my hands, and I heard the

sizzling noise of well-done scrambled eggs. Ten minutes later, we wore black knee-length aprons

and played gentle music you would find at Starbucks. The cheesy and eggy aroma from the

burrito made me come off the edge of my seat. As I took the first bite of the burrito, the chewy

texture, together with the richness of ham and cheese, was lovely. I downed the burrito; within

minutes, the burrito was no longer on my plate. The cherry on top was the fruit salad; the natural
sugars from the apples and bananas were fulfilling. The following event after breakfast was the

presentation, so we were ready.

When we went outside, the weather was nice for once. Although most of the sky was

covered with clouds, we still saw a glimmer of turquoise daylight. For presentations, Tanya’s

group went first, followed by Aiden’s group, and our group went last. Tanya’s presentation rolled

smoothly; Layla, Maddox, Tanya, and Charlotte did a “ring around the Rosie” after running out

of the bushes, huddled up, and chanted, “Moist Towelettes!” In my opinion, I could hear

Maddox’s commanding yet pubescent voice the best. Then, the “Original Moist Towelettes”

made a rap for their presentation. Aidan shuffled his feet against the gravel and clapped to create

a decent beat. Audrey and Byron sang acceptably, with Aidan leading the chorus. Their

presentation was a bit anticlimactic but okay. Finally, the Three Musketeers were up. Grace,

Daisy, Ellie, and I danced in front of the porch, waved our imaginary wands, then shouted in

unison “Musketeers!” and proceeded to swing imaginary swords. After chaperones Cassie and

Lindy decided, the fake Moist Towelettes ultimately came out on top.

The team had time to nap, play board games, or do homework. My gut told me to do

homework, so I did just that. I looked at my recycled phone’s screen introducing bottomless

chains of emails regarding work from every class. I instinctively looked in my carry-on bag to

see if I had any writing utensils. Unfortunately, I came here empty-handed. Anxious, I asked if

any of my friends had any writing utensils; to my dismay, none of my friends had any. I bolted

up the narrow stairs into the master bedroom, curled into a ball, and started crying alligator tears.

I was both nervous and furious; I simply wasn’t going to accept having piles of schoolwork taller
than the Burj Khalifa. Eventually, chaperone Lindy was generous enough to hand me some paper

and a green pen. Despite not having a computer, having at least a pen and paper numbed the

sting of not being able to do my homework. “Thank you so much, Lindy,” I said with a sigh of

relief.

The cloudy sunset made the sky seem darker than usual. I peered out the window to see

gunmetal gray clouds and raindrops creating a stream along the asphalt-paved road. I was

side-tracked, so I carried on with my homework. “Everyone report to the dining room in 30,

we’ve got a surprise for you.” chaperone Lindy said. I was so in the zone of doing homework

that 30 minutes felt like 4 minutes. “You can come in now.” approved Lindy. I was a picky eater,

but I would compare what we had for dinner to Monkeypod in Wailea. I got a bowl, gathered a

reasonable amount of rice, and got vegetables doused in soy sauce. When I sat down and took

the first bite, the salt content in the soy sauce plus the leafy broccoli and mushy carrots gave me

instant gratification. I ate the vegetables like an MRE in the military. Chaperone Lindy said, “Are

you done with your bowl?”. “Boy am I full!” I exclaimed admiringly. After we were satiated, I

helped out with the dishes. I carefully washed the dishes with a hollow blue dish sponge when

suddenly, my other chaperone Cassie turned on the garbage disposal. It made a hydraulic,

gong-like noise. We did the dishes rather quickly and gathered for a team meeting.

Once everything was all said and done, chaperone Cassie ordered us to pack our bags

since it was our last night before the big day. I was incompetent; I only brought a single carry-on

bookbag which could barely fit all my clothes if possible. Hectically, I jammed all my

belongings into my rustic worn backpack in an attempt to pack all my clothes. After I finished
stuffing Thanksgiving turkey, my bag looked like the gut of a dead blue whale washed up on the

shore, ready to burst open and wreak havoc. Chaperone Cassie came into the room and told me,

“Smart idea to bring one bag with you, the girls upstairs are having the same situation but with

multiple bags.” Honestly, I could agree only if my backpack was a roller bag. When everyone

was all set with packing their bags, we went to sleep straight away. I slept with Byron; his gentle

snores could not phase me throughout the night.

As soon as I woke up, I felt butterflies in my stomach because it was the dawn of the final

day. The team collectively woke up between 5:30 and 6:00 to depart from our Airbnb. On the

table, our only options were blueberry muffins and bananas. I had the scrumptiously made

blueberry muffins for breakfast; their texture was smooth and mushy. After that, I searched the

house like a SWAT officer to ensure I wouldn’t leave anything behind. Then, we went outside to

get one last glimpse of the kitchen before locking the door. My backpack weighed a million

pounds, but I could manage by not wearing it constantly. My coach knocked on the door of the

outhouse and out came a white-haired man having a well-trimmed chest-length beard with a

mustache covering his lips. We thanked the world to this guy for letting us rent the Airbnb then

we were on our way. Before I got in the used rental mini-van, there I was in the same spot,

capturing one final moment of the Airbnb in all its glory; the cheerless portable garage, the

outstandingly built porch, and the rightfully deserved outhouse – all stood there in front of me. I

fought back a tear and waved to say my final goodbyes.