Ah camping, the time honored tradition where people take the insides of their house and put them on the outside. A chance to reunite with nature, at least until the battery in the iPhone and iPad die. A time when people can commune with the silent majesty as they skull fuck it with the tact and bravado of an 80’s movie SEAL team yelling at one another during a firefight.
My wife and I went camping last weekend. We did have a good time, just us and the dogs. There was a fire ban which wasn’t much fun. However, we had plenty of food and beer to pass the time. Not to mention that we just got to talk to one another with no distractions. Well, except for the yapping shart crowns that surrounded us. After about as much fun as two people could have staring at an electric lantern and being eaten by bugs, all while being serenaded by the chatter from surrounding sites, we went to bed.
We slept off and on until 2 a.m. The Ernst* family reunion was in full swing. At least, that is the surname that I thought I heard the guy tell Captain Change His Pants as he welcomed him to the family. They were all over the place. Every camping site was somehow connected. Even the ones that didn’t seem to be related at first just turned out to be the introverted black sheep of the family. We were surrounded by Ernst’s, who insisted on staying up until 2 a.m. reminiscing about Christmas mornings at Granny’s and Pee-Pa’s and polio vaccines.
Around 2 a.m. the wind picked up and miraculously, everyone shut the fuck up. At least for a few minutes. Then most of them forgot something in their car or really big truck that had to be retrieved. Maybe it’s a habit, but locking doors remotely and tripping the horn while others are trying to sleep is a dick move. Not to mention that whoever did it forgot their Twilight novel and had to do it one more time. The site across from us refused to close the hatch on their SUV manually opting for the button that causes the door to beep repeatedly as it slowly closes. I quit counting after the second time.
Captain Change His Pants didn’t have a name until the following day. That was when we saw him change his pants and shoes three times in half an hour. Pants with boots or cons? Shorts with All stars? No. Jeans with a different pair of shoes. Yes! The only thing that never changed was his “super cool” jean jacket. Then he backed over the post with the campsite info on it has he left. Which was something I had predicted he would do. Sadly, I didn’t announce that to my wife.
Also, there was Admiral Doesn’t Use The Outhouse With Responsibility, who was also a problem. Our site was between the two outhouse areas. Both have two outhouses and garbage cans. One of these areas was closer than the other, but one of the two outhouses was out of order. I was in a lazy mood so I rolled the dice and went with the shorter walk. That is when I ran into the Admiral’s thralls who eagerly awaited outside the outhouse. I could hear him talking and they giggled at his inanity. He was droning on about the smell as his mind was blown by the darkness of the pit below.
I mostly ignored this as I hadn’t yet established a dislike for him. When he stepped out his thralls chortled with the lobotomized glee and flocked to him like the least ambitious of flies to the glow of electric light. He greeted me with a friendly tone and I responded in kind. Then I went inside the outhouse. Not only had he left the lid up – which is a no-no because the stench goes everywhere – he had also left the seat down while he peed. There were at least two misfires that I could see.
Not feeling like wiping some guys piss off the lid, I returned to the site and notified my wife. She decided that she would walk the longer distance for the remainder of the trip. Which was a good idea because the Ernst family exclusively used the one ruined by the Admiral. Way to pee on your grandma’s butt you jack-rag! The next day had repercussions of the stench kind. Which is also why campsites are not to have more than two vehicles. Which many of these sites did. There were just too many damn people.
That was when we decided to pull the cord and leave around 6 p.m. the next day. We just knew that it was going to be more of the same the next night. Were we sad to go? Heck yes! Are humans the worst? You bet your ass!
*Changed for privacy sake.