I don't want a stair.

A year later is a bit too long a time to be this bent out of shape about the whole Zombie Race thing, isn't it? Or does the fact that I'm still experiencing the aftermath make it okay that I'm really very angry right now.

Very angry.

Like, grounded-ready-to-move-obstacles angry.
Gah, if only I could find a copy of the waiver I signed.

I'm going to send a hard copy of my letter to the corporate offices.
I've already added:
Had I known the water was contaminated, and much deeper than the four feet it was advertised as being, I would have taken the bypass. My socks would have stayed dry, and I would have saved myself over a week of sick time, and well over $500 and counting in out of pocket medical costs.

I'm also planning on posting to the Facebook Wall of the race warning people under six feet tall to avoid the river, because it's contaminated with giardia. Four feet deep, my ass!

SO yeah, that's where my head is at right now.
A slow boiling rage.