It’s great campground entertainment to watch people crawl out of their tents or cabins in the morning. I call it the March of the Full Bladder. It’s largely a female thing, because men are more likely to cheat and use the woods in the middle of the night. A woman will emerge, groggy from a poor night’s sleep and partially blinded by the daylight. She will lean forward and stumble for the first few steps until her legs catch up. She won’t greet you or even make eye contact. She is on a mission. It resembles the Walk of Shame that young women endured when they snuck out of our college fraternity early in the morning and headed back to their dormitories. (This was unfair, because if one of my fraternity brothers walked in the opposite direction early in the morning, there was no shame involved – quite the opposite, in fact.)

Camping is a lot of work for everybody except me. There was often a buzz of activity, especially during set up, tear down, or mealtime. I couldn’t do anything to help, and no one expected me to. I felt like a King sitting on his throne, his wheeled throne, being waited on hand and foot and enjoying a life of leisure. But it wasn’t as much fun as I imagine being King would be.

I never know where to put by drink when sitting around the campfire. After several failed attempts, the team built a side table for me that was both stable and at a comfortable height. (The one pictured here was a failed attempt.)

We spent all day Saturday outdoors, and the heat got to me. About halfway through a scrumptious dinner of chicken, summer squash, zucchini, and corn on the cob, my arms and hands failed me, not unexpectedly. Several of us were engaged in a lively dinner discussion, so I tried to use a system of vague gestures and inaudible whispers to get Kim’s attention.

“What?” she asked.

“I need help,” I said while pointing at my plate.

“Help with what?”

“With my food.”

“Which food?” she asked a bit more loudly because the whispering wasn’t working.

Frustrated by Kim’s inability to read my mind, I blurted, “I need help with everything!” Our dinner companions stopped talking, which doubly frustrated me. I complained to Kim, “I tried to say that quietly so I wouldn’t interrupt the dinner conversation.” Within seconds, I felt terrible for being such an asshole, but Kim didn’t even seem to notice, and I’m not sure anyone else did either. Conversation resumed, and Kim helped me finish my meal. Damn heat.

We enjoyed our last evening around the campfire, going to bed only after gentle prodding by the campground “police” around midnight.

As Kim prepared to get me out of bed on Sunday morning, she complained of a strange odor in the far corner of the camp. Seconds later she gasped and threw a shirt on the floor. Kim is not a girly girl, mind you. She almost never cries out like that.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A dead mouse,” she screamed.

“A mouse crawled into your shirt and died?”

In a more calm voice, she answered, “It’s more likely that a certain cat at our house killed a mouse, and a certain dog buried the dead mouse in our suitcase while we were still packing on Thursday morning.”

“You’re not accusing Oreo and Phoebe of such a crime?”

“I am.”

I thought about it, and yeah, that’s what happened. Kim put on a different shirt and disposed of the mouse.

After Kim finished getting me up, I sat outside and witnessed the March of the Full Bladder again, and then I ate breakfast. It was time to pack for home, so another whirlwind of activity broke out around me while I reigned benevolently from my portable throne. Soon, my little kingdom looked as barren as when we had arrived, ready for the next round of campers.

A big thank you goes out to all five of my fellow adventurers. You took such good care of me. I wanted for nothing the entire weekend.

As we said our goodbyes to the rest of the group, I asked Kim, “I had fun this weekend, but it’s really up to you. Was all the work worth it?”

“It was worth it. I had a great time.”

“Maybe we’ll do it again?”

“Oh definitely.”

And there you have it.

Other posts in this series:
I’m Going Camping
We Went Camping: Part One
We Went Camping: Part Two