Unrestrained camping experience
Every spring and summer billions of Americans leave their homes
to go camping. We travel to open spaces to get away from it all. We
fill these open spaces for a weekend.
Unrestrained camping experience
Every spring and summer billions of Americans leave their homes to go camping. We travel to open spaces to get away from it all. We fill these open spaces for a weekend.
Last weekend I participated in high-density camping with 25 other middle-aged men. There were three men under the age of 25, but they were there by accident. They came with relatives. They had no idea what they were getting into, but by the time the older guys starting walking around in shorts, and no shirts, it was too late. They couldn’t escape.
We parked our trucks and motorcycles and pitched a bunch of small tents. We formed an enclave. On our sides were other tent complexes. Once the tents were in place, we began the process of camping. We unfolded chairs, sat in them, and surveyed our neighbors.
To our side was a family of approximately 100 hippies. The women wore no bras and the men were shirtless. None of the children used hair products. Behind us were an undetermined number of young men who played bass-heavy music from a boombox and drank beer. They eventually brawled with one another.
Members of our group smoked cigars. Hippie members smoked marijuana. The scents mingled.
Free of wives and children, men in our group became unrestrained in their behavior. This included open farting and belching. The children next door practiced restrained behavior. This included not falling onto our tents while running about in packs.
After settling in, we decided to partake in the great outdoors. We crossed the highway and walked down to the beach. Some men sat in folding chairs, ate Fritos, and burned in the sun. Other men surfed.
After visiting the great outdoors, we returned to camp to prepare for the evening meal. Most men napped. The others fired lemons out of a “potato” gun. A potato gun is a long piece of plastic tubing that is filled with a small amount of flammable liquid. A lemon is jammed into the end, the liquid is lit, the trigger turns over, and the ammunition is launched hundreds of feet into the air.
The children next door thought the potato gun was terrific. Their parents were skeptical, but let the children watch.
For dinner we barbecued an astounding amount of red meat. Enough animals to populate a zoo. We became so engorged on red meat that we had an entire pot of sweet, white corn left over. We decided to offer the corn to our neighbors. They were curious.
NEIGHBOR: “You are all men?”
US: “Yes, we’re men.”
NEIGHBOR: “What are you?”
US: “We are non-denominational and non-political.”
That night we sat by a fire, chatted, farted, belched, and played cards. The neighbors played bongo drums, guitars, and sang. The men behind us drank and brawled.
We slept on lumpy ground and snored. Some of the children next door cried and talked.
In the morning we rose early and emerged slowly from our tents. We looked lumpy. We made strong coffee. We cooked eggs, pancakes, and red meat. We farted freely for the last time, then prepared to pack and leave.
We were fulfilled by camping out.
“The outdoor experience is hard work,” said a friend. “I’m going to have to take a nap when I get home.”
Pulling out, we waved goodbye to the neighbors. They waved back.
