*Warning* – if you enjoy camping, you may want to surf elsewhere.
I hate camping. There. I said it. I’m pretty sure that my version of Hell includes sitting on an uncomfortable chair roasting mystery meat on a coat hanger while drinking warm beer and playing a round of Whose Hair Looks More Like A Bug Repellant Rat Nest?
I went to buy a new cordless phone this week & the check out clerk asked me if I was going camping for the long weekend. First – it’s the long weekend all ready?? And second, not a chance aforementioned Hell & I tell her my idea of camping is a hotel that doesn’t have room service. She was in complete shock, “Wow! You’re the first person who has said no”. Really? Either her shift just started or I am more alone in this than I thought. I’ve noticed this year more people are camping, at least it seems so. Could it be the whole recession thing? People are trying to stay close to home & camping is more economical?
I live in a decently sized city that doesn’t lack for activity, about a million or so of us call it home. That’s the key word – home. As in, I have one. Why would I want to leave it to pretend not having one is fun? Peeing in a public toilet is the best I could hope for – peeing in the woods is the worst I could hope for. I would surely end up with piss all over the back of my jeans. That’s right, I don’t know how to piss in the wilderness. Know why? I have a home that includes 3 toilets.
Here’s a little more food for thought. When camping, what do you eat? Hot dogs, beer, marshmallows and chips? Thanks, but after a couple of days of that diet, I’m gonna want to have my own toilet. That’s gotta be some foul assed shite that’s going down the pipes as the only roughage available is the grass you’ve passed out in from said beer.
Another thing. What’s there to do? That’s what everyone keeps trying to sell me on. “You do nothing”. What? Really? Nothing? I would never camp in a tent – ever. If I were to even consider (I won’t) camping, I would be one of those trailer people. But, I don’t understand them either. I buy said trailer, outfit it with the necessities of home, pull the damn thing behind a gas guzzling vehicle, arrive…no where…set up, I become the Sunblock Nazi (I have a hate/hate relationship with the sun as we’re practically Albinos), prepare family meals either using fire or gas – both of which go swimmingly with hanging out with babies – have no where to bathe myself or kids, hang out by a fire – which I begin to loathe because it means I have to watch my children’s every single move, resulting in no beer for me, the kids won’t go to sleep ’cause they can hear all of the fun going on outside the trailer & their behaviour gets worse and worse as they get more and more tired and I spend the rest of the night praying to God to make the hours go faster so I can get them home & back in our routines…all to do nothing? Really? Then I get to pack up trailer and family to drive home, only to realize I just invested in a rolling house which I can’t keep clean either.
I would need a separate therapist just to deal with me post camping trip.