"Welcome to the Great Letterboxing Contest!" read the sign at the
crowded picnic pavilion. Everyone was buzzing with excitement,
meeting and greeting folks and personas that they had only read about
online. Exclamations of "Oh, YOU'RE so-and-so?!" and "It's so good to
finally meet you!" and "I just LOVE your signature stamp! How do
you...." dominated the conversations. The morning gathering had the
look feel of a family reunion except no one resembled anyone else.
All shapes, sizes, color, religion, sexual orientation, political
affiliation, social class and degrees of bathing habits were equally
represented and enjoying themselves.

One bearded man, in a brown leather hat, camouflage pants and hiking
boots kept looking at his watch as he listened patiently and only
slightly disinterested to a thin New England couple explain about
carving techniques with an Exacto knife. It's true these New
Englanders could carve a mean stamp, but Rhus' mind was on the day's
event. He glanced once more at his watch then interrupted the lecture
with a smile and pat on the arm, "Sorry team, it's time to start this
thing. He stepped away and said smiling "We'll chat later okay?" then
climbed to the top of the picnic table.

Rhus raised his hands and said loudly "Alright! It's....." looking at
his watch again "...now exactly two minutes to start!" He paused as
most of the people quieted down. Three women along the edge of the
group continued talking animatedly and giggling uncontrollably.

When they noticed the quieted crowd, one of the women said "Shh! Shh!
It's starting!" The giggles turned to snorts, then louder giggles
then they covered their mouths and tried to put on innocent faces.
Just a couple more snorts and they were settled enough for Rhus to
continue.

"Welcome to the Great Letterboxing Contest!" Rhus began as the
letterboxers all turned in his direction. "We will be starting in
just over a minute!" With that announcement a number of folks, still
listening, began mentally checking their gear or patting their
pockets to make sure they had remembered everything they needed.
Backpacks, fanniepacks, ink pads, watercolor markers, compasses,
clues, maps, stools, etc. A couple people made a quiet "Doh!" and
made a dash to their cars.

"Before you are released, let me just remind you of the rules for
letterboxing, 'THERE ARE NO RULES' " Many smiled and nodded agreement
as some began to edge closer to their planned starting points with a
calculated nonchalance.

Rhus reached down to lift and hold aloft a very nice looking wood,
marble and metal trophy. Two columns rose up on the side that were
topped with gold forms of hikers that looked to be struggling and
climbing toward the middle pedestal. The middle pedestal was marble.
Rising higher than the columns, it was topped with a larger gold form
of a Tupperware container. The bottom of the pedestal had an
engraved, brass plaque which read "#1 Letterboxer" with the date and
the year below. It looked very nice, even in spite of the tarnishing
fingerprints of all the boxers who'd admired it covetously this
morning.

"We will meet back here at the appointed hour, where and when we
will present this trophy to the winner of the Great Letterboxing
Contest!" A happy cheer went up with some applause and pats on backs
and slightly insincere well-wishing among the letterboxers.

"Are you ready?" Rhus asked, feeding the excitement. The gathering
tensed. Rhus looked at his watch and put a quieting finger in the
air, "GO!" he shouted, throwing down his hand, and like cockroaches
in a surprise flick of the light switch, the letterboxers scurried
off in all the different directions at once, some got themselves
quickly to their car, others ran through the field. Some paused mid-
step to examine their compass, shuffle in a circle then head off in a
daze. Still, it wasn't half a minute before the entire area was
empty except for Rhus.

"I thought they'd never leave" Rhus said to himself as he sat down on
the top of the table and fished a cigarette and Zippo out of his
pocket. He took another look at his watch then settled in for the
wait.

At the appointed hour it looked like everyone had returned with
smiles on their faces and only a couple people limping but looking
triumphant.

"What a great idea," Rhus thought, "With everyone having such a good
time, I hope they do this every year."

"Welcome back!" Rhus grinned from his perch on the table. "I see you
all returned to the finish line on time and glad to see everyone's
none the worse for wear after a full day of letterboxing. Now, let's
see who gets the prize! Who won?"

In startling unison, all but one of the letterboxers proudly
exclaimed "I did!" Then eyes narrowed as each looked at the others.
Mumbles began, "No, I did." "I'm the winner." "You didn't win!" The
mumbles turned into shouts. "You're an idiot!" "Shut up!" "I won!"

The one quiet letterboxer still sat at a table during the ruckus and
looked around expectantly.

"Wait a minute!" Rhus shouted, climbing to the top of the picnic
table, "There's some confusion here! If you would all calm down, we
can sort this out.

By a quiet show of hands, who claims to have won?" All hands shot
skyward except for the lone boxer's at the table.

"Okay, then, one at a time starting with you in the hunting vest,"
Rhus facilitated, "how did you win?"

The woman, fetching in the bright orange, spoke up, "Well, Rhus, as
you know, there are over 22 miles of trails in this park! In fact,
there's 22.4 miles to be exact." she said smugly. "I hiked every last
inch of those trails getting all the boxes in this park in one
visit. No one can claim to have hiked further today." Some nods of
amazed agreement sprinkled the group.

"Now hold on!" cried a woman from the back. "Excuse me," she said,
snaking through the crowd to the front and stepping up on the seat of
the picnic table. "I happen to know that there are only 10 boxes
hidden in this park! Clearly I am the winner because I have found 24
boxes today. 10 of the 12 in this park, 8 in the park down the road
and 4 individual boxes along the way."

Responding to the puzzled looks of some of the boxers, Rhus quickly
did the math. "But that adds up to 22 boxes."

"Oh," she said, "and 2 hitchhikers."

"Hitchhikers don't count!" A couple by the trophy yelled
simultaneously. "They have to be 'pure' letterboxes to count!" said
the wife. "That's absolutely right," supported the husband as the
wife inched protectively toward the trophy. "Pure letterboxes are the
only things that count. One clue, one stamp, one log, one box equals
one F. Hitchhikers don't have boxes or clues of their own so they
don't count.

"No, no, no." Said an elderly woman seated in the midst. The crowd
parted a bit and turned to the center. "The most important thing
about this event" she continued "are the people here. I made it a
point to meet and exchange with every person who attended here today.
Certainly no one else here can say that, so I am the winner."

An uproarious guffaw was loosed from one of the three women who'd
reclaimed their spot at the edge. This, of course, caused the other
two women to burst into laughter themselves and clutch their chest
and side with giggles as they tried to catch their breath.

"Oh come on!" the first of them panted between fits.
"We had SO much fun today!" squealed the second.
"We WIN!" shouted the third and they started an impromptu and awkward
square dance which ended in a pile of three bodies rolling in the
grass gasping for air with contented sighs.

But that display didn't lighten the mood. It just caused the other
letterboxers to scowl and assert their claim to the title, #1
Letterboxer. "I found the most!" "So what? I hiked longer!" "Pure
letterboxes!" "No it's PFX! PFX! PFX!" "I got back first!" "I was
first finder!" "We found the hard ones!" "Follow the SHOE!" "It's
exchanges, really, that matter." "Fun! Fun! FUN! -
snort!" "Hitchhikers DO SO count!"

Realizing the group would not settle themselves, Rhus picked up the
trophy and hefted it like a bat, contemplating. He took a couple
short, aiming swings at the pavilion's support post, readied his
stance, stepped into the pitch and swung. Arcing full force toward
the support beam, the gold tupperware box created a whistling as it
passed above the heads of the malcontents, drawing their eyes to the
impending destruction of the coveted prize.

A collective gasp. A small scream. Then silence. Complete silence.
No sound beyond the natural sounds of the secluded park could be
heard. Every eye was on Rhus. Or, more specifically, every eye was on
the trophy. Mouths were frozen in mid sentence. Hands clutched at
pearls or covered the eyes. No one spoke, no one moved, no one
breathed.

But the destruction didn't come. With a calculated effort, Rhus had
stopped the swing just slightly before the trophy could hit the
wood.

Then Lady Prisspott fainted.

The second of silence stretched to a seeming eternity. Then,
breaking the silence was heard "Excuse me." from the boxer who sat
alone. Heads turned, many noticing the quiet man for the first time.

"Hi, I'm Poison Ivy" he said amicably "and, uh, I thought there would
be beer."