As I approached to look for my disc, I realized that a guy was on the hill above the trail that goes up to 11th street. He had just stood up from his makeshift bed and was still working on pulling up his britches.
Having seen much more than I needed to see, I asked if he's noticed my disc landing in the vicinity?
"I didn't see it, but I felt it. It almost hit me!"
He pointed in the wrong direction, but it ended up being found no more than 5 feet from his makeshift pillow. Yeah. Needless to say my second shot was a bit hurried and not so great.
Turns out if you are sleeping in the Gulch and are almost maimed by a flying disc, the instinctual reaction is to drop your drawers and stand up.
Who knew?
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