Where the Buffalo Roam

"Exalted Buffalo Bettley is recognized," I said, giving our former grand poobah his proper recognition and the floor.

Uncle Horace rose carefully, holding the table and the back of the chair next to him. I figured he'd give a nice summary of past fundraisers, say how times had changed, and then urge that we give this our full support. That, I figured, was better than letting Nessa speak up.

"Buffaloes and Bisonettes, thank you, and thanks to our illustrious fundraising committee for once again trying to get us the most successful campaign possible. We've done a few of these ice cream socials over the years, so we know just what to expect from them. Ho hum, hum drum. We'll make a little money, but not much, and it will take a whole helluva lotta work to do it."

This wasn't what I was expecting. I looked at him, a bad feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.

"Buffaloes and Bisonettes, I think we need to be bold, to try somethin' different, to go where no Buffalo has gone before. Therefore, Grand Poobah Sizemore, I move that we amend the motion on the floor as follows. In place of the Ice Cream Social, we substitute the words Nude Day Nude Beach Festival at County Reservoir Beach using the information presented by Bisonette Smith at our last meeting! After all, it won't be that much of a change for some people. Country folk have been skinny-dipping in creeks round here for over a hundred and fifty years; well, when the creeks had water in 'em."

"Shit!" I exclaimed on the open mic, but it probably didn't matter because of the laughter and the thunderous hooves drumming the tables around the room. There were a half dozen seconds before the drumroll ended, and more when it was over.

With Uncle Horace's amendment made and properly seconded, I had no choice but to follow the rules (if I didn't want the What Do-Hoodoo, our version of the traditional parliamentarian, to relieve me) and open it for discussion for resolution before the main motion. The discussion that followed was civil, with surprising support from some (particularly, I noticed, among some of those Uncle Horace, the traitor, had called) and equal opposition from others. I felt the tide turning when someone pointed out the rules of the recreation area, but Nessa--Bisonette Smith--raised the talking stick for her table and I was forced by rule to recognize her.

"Shaggy Buffaloes and Beautiful Bisonettes, thank you for hearing out this proposal. Buffalo Hendrix, you are correct that the country rules prohibit nudity in the recreation area for public events, but a discussion with the county administrator and a private attorney reveals that if we reserve the recreation area for the entire day and host a private, ticketed event, that rule does not apply. The administrator was a little upset when he discovered this, but I'd already put down a cash deposit for the day, out of my own funds, just to lock us in if the lodge choses to follow this course, so they couldn't change the rules and leave us hanging."

There was mild snickering from people at a couple of tables, followed by whispers, and outright guffawing from a few latecomers before Nessa added, "And similar to the generous offer by Grand Poobah Sizemore, if we don't sell the 250 tickets minimum that I've projected, I, too, will personally guarantee purchase up to 100 tickets toward reaching that number."

At that point, several opponents quit opposing and minutes later, when the question was called, the amendment passed by almost two thirds of the votes. There was little discussion following that, and the original motion as amended passed just minutes later.

Not really believing what had just occurred, I sat down with an exasperated sigh. The Shaggy Buffaloes Lodge was hosting a Nude Day Festival at the beach!

***

I was surprised when I received five resignations from our membership over the next few days, having expected many times that number, possibly even to the point of destroying the lodge. That was a huge relief, even when two more arrived over the next few weeks. Four of the seven quietly rejoined in the months that followed.

Several members called and spoke with me privately, offering to assist in any way possible but saying they would not be willing to participate on the day of the event. Several others said they would participate in the volunteer efforts but refused to appear in the buff; I told them that wasn't a problem to me since I didn't plan to do so either!

Even old Cleetus Nedemeyer stopped by the store one day and told me that he was 78 years old and there was no way he was going to appear "in flagrente delicto." Not wanting to play the part of Inigo Montoya, I didn't have the heart to tell old Cleetus that the term didn't mean quite what he thought it meant.

Since she'd set things up and formed the plan, I appointed Bisonette Smith, as beautiful as ever but extremely perturbing, as our Nude Day Event Poobah, and she proceeded to prove herself quite capable of running it. She set up committees, with some help from Uncle Horace and Vince, and then set working sales levels and staggered increases in case the crowd was larger than the small number we expected. She was able to get lots of things on standby by offering to pay 10 or 15 percent more if we needed them on the day of the event with help coming from all over the county.

Nessa and I met fairly often as the months passed, and we actually started getting to know each other, though she shied away from discussions of the most personal issues on her side, like where she came from or what she did for a living. The main thing was that she was so easy to be around and I enjoyed spending time with here, except when I brought up the forbidden issues; then, she shut off like an automatic valve in one of my designs, letting nothing else out until our next meeting, when it was a slow trickle to start and more as trust was rebuilt. Over time, at least a degree of trust was established, and I quit asking about anything too personal, figuring I'd rather have her friendship than her whole story.

And things got done, little by little at first, and then more steadily over time, but my concerns remained, ever present in the back of my mind when not screaming wildly in the front of it.

It was a Sunday afternoon in early June when I was driving home from shopping in Creek City that the DJ on the radio came on after a song and said, "Yeah, folks, better get your tickets ordered now. I hear they're selling fast for the Shaggy Buffaloes' Festival at the county reservoir up in Bettleys Corners. The event's coming up in just over a month. This is an adult-only, clothing optional event, so go to their website for more information."

I couldn't believe it and completely lost my cool. "Fuck!" I yelled at the dashboard. "Everybody in the county knows now!"

Of course, by the time I got home, I'd realized that was how tickets are sold so I calmed myself, wondering if we'd actually sold any.

***

Nessa came into the store again on Monday.

"I wanted to give you an update before the meeting tonight."

I stared at her. "How bad is it?"

She glared at me. "On-line ticket sales started last week, and our first mentions on the radio were over the weekend."

"Yeah, I heard one of those. How much are we paying for them?" I griped, ready to jump all over her for unauthorized expenses.

"They're free, public service announcements, if it's just the announcer talking. Real ads are expensive so I've cut one but am not pulling the trigger unless we feel the need to make a buy."

"No, no paid ads. No pouring good money after bad." I realized then how harsh that sounded, so I asked, softly. "So where do we really stand?" I was trying to calm myself and deescalate the situation before we really got into it.

She was still glaring, but she softened a bit, too. "We've sold 32 presale tickets and we're almost five weeks out. With my guarantee, I think we'll break even. I'll be watching and increasing purchase numbers if we exceed 200 since there will be some gate sales on the day of the event, assuming the weather isn't awful. That will make it nip and tuck for a while, but I think we're going to be okay."

I nodded and decided to offer an olive branch since she seemed to believe in what she was doing and was actually putting her money where her mouth was.

"Nessa, I'm sorry. I'm really nervous about this, if you couldn't tell, but I appreciate all of your efforts. I promised up to $500 in makeup funds on the ice cream social, so I'll do that here, too, to give you a little more padding, if you need it."

"Thanks, Alan," she said, finally relaxing a bit. "I appreciate that."

It slipped out before I thought. "Say, it's getting late. You want to grab dinner with me before the meeting?"

The change in her expression was like a pin had deflated a balloon. "Alan, thank you, but no thanks. I'm sorry, but I can't deal with that, or you like that, right now. Please, let's leave it be, okay?"

That stung a bit for I'd become increasingly attracted to her despite her hardheadedness. She was a nice, intelligent, and attractive woman, but she obviously wanted nothing to do with me so I backed off, telling her good evening as she left.

We met weekly after that, but she didn't give me any more updated numbers, either, just telling me, "Don't worry, Alan. I promise, it's going to be okay."

As the event neared, I was praying that she'd be correct.

***

Saturday, July 14, arrived and I was there with the morning shift of Buffaloes and Bisonettes. We'd agreed to work staggered shifts so everyone who wished to participate in the Nude Day shedding of clothing would have the opportunity at some point. I didn't really expect we'd have any takers.

I walked the grounds, looking at the setup and admiring how well Nessa had arranged everything. She'd had the grass cut and trimmed all the way to the fence, which seemed a waste to me, but it looked nice so I didn't complain. Port-a-potties were in rows in several spots, making me wonder how many she'd ordered. Food pavilions were ready, with grills preheating and hot dogs and hamburgers ready to be sold starting soon after the gate opened, along with big coolers full of hot Barbecutie Pit sandwiches. I figured I'd end up buying a bunch of those to take home when nothing sold.

It all looked so good, so professional, that I had that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that we were about to take a real bath on our event. Then, if someone did something inappropriate, it would sully the Shaggy Buffaloes name for years to come and we'd never have a chance to recover.

Not usually a nervous guy, I was now, chomping at the bit, just wanting to get things underway so I'd know where we stood and how bad it was going to be. By 8:45, I really couldn't take it any more so I walked up the road to the entry gate, soaking up the sun as I went. As I rounded the tree line, planted just after the reservoir was completed, my eyes grew wide.

"Holy cow!" I breathed.

Cars were lined up at the gate all the way back to the highway and down the side of the highway as far as I could see. Advance tickets were $20 a person; some of these people would have advance tickets, I knew, but with "day of" sales at $25, we were actually going to be busy. "Maybe this isn't going to be as bad as I thought." I said it aloud, hoping it would be true after months of worrying about the reverse.

I was at the gate for a while as cars rolled in, with about a third of the people having advance tickets and the rest glad to shell out the $5 premium for day-of entry since the weather looked great. Some of the cars and trucks were filled with young adult males, looking to get an eye-full, I'm sure, but there were similar vehicles filled with college-age women wearing such tiny bikinis that it made me wonder if they would even need to take them off.

What was surprising, though, was the number of middle-age and older couples, men and women, husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, who pulled in fully clothed but who expressed gratitude at our hosting the event.

"My wife and I went to a nude beach party on Redondo Beach back in the 70s," said one man, smiling.

"It was a lot of fun 'til the cops showed up and ran us off," laughed the elderly lady. "We've always wanted to do it again."

Others told similar tales, with some being members of nudist clubs, others having been to nude resorts in Central America, and some having spent time on beaches in Europe or private beaches in the U.S.. We only had a matter of seconds with each car as we checked them in, but many of the stories were similar and we'd spotted vehicles from six states by the time I had to head back to the beach area.

The parking lot was being handled quite well by some of those who didn't feel comfortable near the expected nudity, but it wasn't long before the lot was full and they were directing vehicles out onto the grass to be parked.

My cell phone was lit up with messages by that point, including several from Nessa who'd finally given me her phone number for event purposes.

Nessa: Ordering batch two of port-a-potties from Creek City Sanitation. Be here at noon

Nessa: Having another 80 pounds of burgers and 50 packages of dogs plus buns and condis delivered from Burger Barn. Here noonish

By noon, Jeremy Grimes reported that over 1,200 people were in the gate, and more were streaming in by the minute. The parking crew had filled all of the available space inside the gate, so they were starting to park vehicles in the field outside between the gate and the road. That's when I noticed it had been cut, too.

Nessa: Jack's Grocery will deliver more burgers and rest of paper products on provisional order by 1. Will order more from CCity by 1:30 if needed; that won't arrive until 2:30 or so

Nessa: Alan, all SB shifts off need to be cancelled immediately. We need everybody working! Please!" SB, I knew, was for Shaggy Buffalo lodge members.

Whereas I'd been the one so nervous prior to the event, I had to smile that the roles were now reversed, but that was short-lived when I realized how much pressure was on her. By 1 PM, poor Nessa was starting to panic. Her next message, I saw, was sent only to me.

Nessa: Where the F are all these people coming from? I honestly expected a thousand, at most.

I looked at her message. A thousand? She expected a thousand? What the hell?

I started making my way around the lake to event HQ, a big, open-sided tent from the funeral home that had seemed like wasted effort when Nessa requested it. From a distance, I could see Buffaloes and Bisonettes running around getting new assignments or reporting on those complete and getting still more: making deliveries, taking away trash, cleaning port-a-johns, getting more prizes for the carnival games, and other things I couldn't even guess.

Still, I had to smile. In addition to the gate and the lines at the food pavilions, I learned that some of our members selling ice cold cans of pop and bags of popcorn like hawkers at a major league game were making a killing, with bottles of sunscreen going like hotcakes, too.

Nessa: Ordered more sunscreen from Jack's. He's sending all he's got! May need to send someone to CC to get more."

Taking a break for a few seconds, I grabbed a bottle of water from a hawker, giving him my $2 for a bottle that had cost us ten or maybe fifteen cents. The county wouldn't let us sell beer or alcohol, but most of those interested in imbibing had brought their own bottle of whatever floated their boat. And based on what I saw looking out at the people on our little beach and in the grass well beyond as I took that moment to collect my thoughts, it looked like everything was floating along pretty well, much better than I could have ever imagined.

Many people were partially or even fully nude, but others were wearing shorts or loose t-shirts, with many of the women going braless. Light cover-ups were common, too, with people wearing them for a while before taking another round of full-on, full-body sunshine.

Bodies of all types were present, with some showing off sculpted physiques and others being mildly or even roundly obese. Many were young adults who hadn't yet experienced middle age spread but many others were slightly plump, slightly pudgy, thoroughly average people.

Never having spent time at a nudist activity, I had to actively avoid spending too much time observing the college-aged hardbodies, either with or without their bikinis, but some of the younger studs had real trouble controlling their hormones, particularly in the first hours after their arrivals. By early afternoon, most were being more respectfully observant without the standing salutes for the ladies, young or older, though I noticed a number of women of all ages frequently observing those guys throughout the day, and usually not with disgust or disdain. I smiled, half hoping that some of the couples, or those who coupled up, would enjoy the results later in the evening, but I quickly put that out of my mind when I remembered that I wouldn't be among them.

I crumpled my empty bottle and tossed it in the recycle can, but on seeing the can was full, I removed that bag and put in another liner, hauling the overstuffed bag to our collection point. The trash and recyclables were both stacking up, so I made a mental note to have them removed as soon as possible.

"Alan, the beach is way too small," complained Nessa as I walked into the HQ tent a little later. "We've got people laying out in the grass all the way to the fence on this side and we don't have that much left going around to the east. People are having fun playing in the water, though."

"Nessa, you said a thousand people," I whispered to her. "How many presales did we have?"

"Ahem, 712?"

"What? We had 712 presales and you didn't tell me?" My voice was quiet but I was yelling at her in my mind.

"Alan, you were so nervous about it being too small, so I told you we'd be fine, but I didn't want you to worry about it getting too big, either. When it reached 700, I went ahead and called in more to the provisional things so we wouldn't have to pay the day-of penalty, but now, I'm worried about having enough of everything even with us calling it all in."

My head was almost spinning. "Hold on." Dialing my phone, I called Jeremy. "Jeremy, it's almost two. What's our current count?"

"It's slowed down some now, Alan. We're currently at about 1,850 or so, but people are parking out here and walking up, so it's harder to keep up now. The Kidmans are running shuttle service from the gate to the lake with their van for those who need it, but most people are just walking."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I went back out to continue my rounds of things she wanted me to shepherd, trying to make sure things were getting done when needed for the much larger crowd than anyone could possibly have expected. That's when I noticed a couple of tents set up along the rear fence. I didn't think that was of our doing, but there were a number of people standing around in front of them, so I went over to find out what was going on. A couple holding each other came staggering out of one as I arrived, and another couple took their place, carefully closing the zipper behind them.

"Great festival, man!" called a long-haired hippie who was probably well into his forties. I wasn't trying to notice but his schlong hung nearly halfway down to his knees, making me wonder for a second if it was real. I looked away, still not knowing. There was a smell of marijuana as I neared him, but he wasn't smoking at the time so I said nothing. There was another smell, too, barely noticeable...

"Hey, man, hope you don't mind if we lend our tents to some of the folks who, uh, need to get out of the sun for a few minutes."