No Badges For You

Last week, I was talking to a co-worker of mine. She needed some guidance for a business deal she was doing for someone that was purchasing a "fifth-wheel."

I had never heard this term before. I, of course, said, "what the hell is that?"

She laughed, and indicated that she, too, asked a similar (but rephrased) question to her client. Apparently this person looked dumbfounded that she didn't know what that was. Then she turned to me and said, "you don't KNOW what it is?" I responded, "do I LOOK like I know what that is?"

It's a camper.

It's not an ordinary camper, but one that attaches to some device in the bed of a pickup truck.

I had no idea. I learned something.

Well, I'm no camper. I know this is a shocker. But I'm not, and for many reasons.

I recall the few times that I've ever been camping. Once was to Jellystone park with my grandmother when I was really, REALLY little. It was mid summer. And it was hotter than hell. I just remember that my dad left because it was too damn hot. Of course, we stayed. And that's ALL I remember.

I went camping once when I was in cub scouts. I hated that.

I remember 2 or 3 times where I went camping with my family, and my mom's brother and family up near Avalanche, Wisconsin. I didn't much like that either. I went because I had to. When you're younger, you're pretty much enlisted to do whatever it is you're told. I remember one of the times it rained, and drizzled, and rained, and drizzled. It was damp. I was damp. Not happy.

I also went camping in high school with a church youth group to the Rocky Mountains north of Fort Collins, Colorado. I knew I was out of my element when we were given instruction about how to ensure that our drinking water was purified, so as not to get some nasty parasite from the random mountain goats, deer, and other fauna that tend to poop in the water stream. I couldn't help but think to myself, "how lucky, I get to drink fresh water from nature's toilet, just like my cocker spaniel Abby did at home." This is why I live in the city, and vow to ALWAYS live in a city for the rest of my life.

I have to admit, it was beautiful. Then again, I think I was more mesmorized by the mountains, as I had never seen mountains in my life until that point. It was a distraction from everything else that was going on around me. Until, that is, I had to go #2.

I hate going potty outside. I'm not a dog, a cat, a mongoose, a caveman, Chuck Norris, or the like. I have issues with it, and I have no good reason as to why. I guess it's the thought that everyone would know what you're up to when you would take the shovel, the toilet paper, and head off into the woods. People knew what you're up to. I guess I felt that something like that should be something best left private, not to be broadcasted to the rest of the 15-18 year olds around you. It was embarrassing. Natural, but embarrassing.

I didn't poop for 4 days.

The last time I went camping was with the Jaycees. Again, it was hot. It was humid. I didn't sleep well, it was noisy. I woke up dewy. I thought beer or booze would have made things better. It just made me that much more uncomfortable. And I hated smelling like campfire.

I haven't been camping since.

So we get back to the camper, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post. It was a used camper. I don't know, but something about the thought of that just screams, "UNCLEAN" to me. I don't know why. It would be the LAST thing I'd ever think of buying.

Give me a hotel, a clean bathroom, air conditioning, and cable TV anytime. That's my kind of camping.

I've resigned myself to being one of the first to go if I ever have to be a survivalist, or had to be on a show like "Survivor." I'd WANT to be the first one to get booted off the island.

And, I'd never have feel dewy again.

Thank GOD.