“Pack your bags, we’re going camping.” My mom’s last three words would come to be my least favorite in the English language, making this my first and very last camping experience.
I’m not a princess but I do enjoy my creature comforts. I need my warm shower, prime time shows, bed, and cell phone. The thought of sleeping on the cold ground and eating nothing but corn on the cob made me cringe my nose and scrunch my eyebrows. Yet now corn would be my fate for the next three days.
The drive took a six hours, six hours too long if you ask me. Arriving at our campsite I opened the car door, stretched my legs, and was amazed by the sight that surrounded me nothing, absolutely nothing, but a lone number sixteen post that marked our lot. All I could do was sigh and drop my shoulders.
We pitched our tent, got the fire burning, and started grilling the infamous corn on the cob. After an exuberant night filled with nothing besides sitting around the fire and twiddling my thumbs, we called it a night. A strange sound lingered right outside our tent. I opened the tent flap, and low and behold… a cow. Five feet in front of me, I stared face to face with it, glaring as she glared back with a crooked smile. Raccoons, squirrels, maybe a bear, but a cow? We were in the mountains, not on farmland. Daisy, the name we affectionately gave her, visited us for the rest of our stay, continuously “mooing” every evening until dawn.
The next day was filled with football, roasting countless marshmallows, and the occasional jaunt to the van to watch an old DVD. Night fell and I crawled into my makeshift house. In addition to Daisy’s serenade, it rained profusely. By the middle of the night I was swimming in a pond of soaking wet blankets. By the morning, I wasn’t very pleasant.
Smelling like must and dirt, I traveled to the lodge to take a shower. The hike, two miles down a long rocky trail, left me in greater need of a shower. My elation was quickly squashed when I discovered the shower demanded quarters! At this point I debated if the shower was worth it, but in my condition I’d most likely scare Daisy away if I didn’t take one. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad thing. I trekked back to the campsite, retrieved seventy-five cents, and journeyed back to the showers. I stepped into the two-by-two shower, inserted my money, took a deep breath, and jumped–freezing cold water! All at once I was shocked, enraged, and furious. I raced to finish my shower. Two minutes had passed by and all I had left to wash was my grimy feet. A half of a second later, the water shut off. Standing there, shivering, washcloth in hand, I stared at my feet, appalled. I returned to camp to rinse my feet with a bottle of water.
The long weekend slowly came to a close. We packed everything and tore down our tent. Daisy was nowhere to be found for a sincere goodbye. I’m sure her next acquaintances, or should I say victims, will grow just as fond of her late night serenades as I.
We journeyed back home and I collapsed in bed, a seeming cloud of heaven, and I resumed my hectic schedule. While for some, nature and camping can be a relaxing getaway with a quiet and serene atmosphere, I’m quite content with my free showers and serenade-free nights.
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