Not too long ago, a bad influence from my job at The Hostage Situation encouraged us to go camping with her on Jekyll Island. "It'll be a blast!" "We will have so much fun!" "You'll be away from here, decompress, have a good time with the family and kids, and we can kick back and chill together!"
Suuuuuureee. Camping. Why not? I have camped before. It was fun. I can do this, and the Locust Brothers will get a kick out of it.
What I did NOT think about was, when I camped before, getting up and down off the ground was no big deal. I was like... I dunno, maybe 9? It was also not 90* with what felt like 900% humidity (unless you were standing on the beach. THAT was perfect.) The last time I "camped", it was in the yard in a pop up camper with a group of kids, when the Locust Brothers were LITTLE. They are now no where near bring "little".
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| It is beautiful |
We sorted our camping supplies, loaded the truck, and headed off on the hour-plus drive to Jekyll. To a person, all of us were filled with a sense of great excitement and expectation, anticipating campfires, sausages cooked on sticks over the open fire, eggs and sausage cooked for breakfast, (huh, guess we like sausages), and adventures galore awaiting us on the beaches.
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| Great breeze, cooled us right off |
On arrival at the campground, reality began to slowly set in, as I looked at the massive number of campers in travel trailers and rvs wedged in next to one another. OK, so maybe the tent sites will be far enough away that all the people won't really be a bother. That wasn't the case. (As you may have guessed, we like solitude.) We were guided to our site, set up camp, and really took a look around. We had fun laughing at the quirky, bold little (fat) squirrels, thinking they were pretty cool. Turns out those little bastages were the recon team, sent to lull us into a false sense of security for the night time invaders.
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| My Locusts |
My anticipation of a great time came crashing down and landed somewhere around my left knee. This was not what I was expecting. The Locusts looked discouraged, my amazing husband looked resigned to our fate, but we decided to solider on. After realizing we forgot firewood, one Locust and I found the front and paid an crazy stupid price for firewood- 4 entire pieces of it. Determined to make this be a good time, we embraced the suck (and the cry from our wallet and forking over $12 for 4 pieces of wood,) and we trudged back to our campsite. Now, all along the way, I'm seeing signs. Some where identification signs, so that folks could find the row they were camped in, and some where warning everyone to secure their trash and food, as there were racoons. "Aww.... trash pandas! Well, they won't be an issue. We have great secure containers, so that at least won't be a concern." (Boy, was I way, way wrong on THAT one.)
Anyway, Locust and I get back to the campsite, proud of capturing wood. Turns out not only was it painfully pricey, it was sopping wet. Poof.... there went dreams of cooking over an open fire.... But hey, at least the continuing attempts at making fire kept a good smolder going, which kept away mosquitos.
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| See that tiny bundle of wood? |
The mood was sinking lower and lower. I kept telling myself, "Well, just get through one night, and hang with work buddy the next day and then go the hell home. We can do one night. One night can't be THAT rough."
Snork. Guess again....
Due to the number of people prowling around the campground, it was decided that one person had to stay at the tent, while the rest went to the beach to check it out. Dear Husband offered to stay and see what he could do to get dinner going. (Thank God for Coleman burners and little gas bottles.) The Locusts and I went to play in the water, and had a blast. Dusk approached, and we headed back to camp. We had dinner, cleaned up, and attempted to settle in for the night.
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| Gotta love that kid |
First, there was The Great Air Mattress Eruption. Poor Littlest Locust's bed... belched or something, and that sucker made the weirdest noises before just giving up the ghost and turning into a... well, a mess is what it was. I was mistakenly under the impression that we had electric at our site, which we did not, so blowing up the back up to the back up air mattress wasn't possible. Neither was plugging in the fan we brought to help move some air overnight. Littlest Locust wound up in the truck. Which probably was the safest move.
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| It got worse before Locust said hell with it... |
By now, its after 9pm. We expected the campground to calm down, and campers to at least be respectful and quiet. Instead there were late arrivals (meaning lots of lights in our camp,) folks walking their dogs (and shining their lights in our faces and around our site,) and those signs I had admired earlier indicating rows? Yeah... those suckers had motion light on them. Which were activated by farts, I swear.
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| And this kid, too |
So here we are, approaching 10 pm, we are all drowning in pools of our own sweat, with one Locust in the truck feeling completely isolated, the other Locust on a camping cot, claiming he is "Hotter than a pedophile in a Barney suit," and Dear Husband and I laying on an air mattress, praying for a breeze, that the mattress holds, and at least a nap.
Silence falls. I'm lulled to a light doze listening to the bugs, doing my best to ignore the constant flashing of lights. Then I hear it. Growling. I grabbed my glasses, grabbed my flashlight, light it up and BAM- arms length away from me, staring at me through the mesh screen at eye level, is a freaking fat ass trash panda. The furry little bastard had the balls to growl at me, with the light on it, as I was telling it to get lost.
We chased him off several times. Had to drag one container into the tent with us, as he was trying to cart off our cooking supplies. We laid back down, all thoroughly awake now, thinking that Littlest Locust probably had the best seat in the place, as at least the friggin asshole racoon wasn't trying to get into the truck. (Yet.) Once again, it gets quiet... and the little fat shit comes back to my window and growls. Again.
Dear Husband started laughing, chased the rotten bugger off, and said, "Well, I thought y'all would last at least one night, but this is NOT the night. Let's pack up and get the hell home." Do you know what took us about an hour to set up got dismantled and loaded into the truck in about 12 minutes and 27 seconds? Yup. Bam, we wuz gone. Slept great too, once we got back home and pulled ticks off. As a side note, while we were packing up, we heard from neighboring campsties, "Get the hell out of here, you little bastard!" And, "Would you just go away? Get lost!" There was a variety of cussing, things being tossed about, distant growls from trash pandas, and what sounded like a bunch of upset campers. The night patrol was strong that evening.
Lesson learned. Next time, and there will be a next time, it will be much cooler, we will bring our own firewood, and we will NOT be camping with a load of other people around. Did I mention it will be much cooler, too? Yeah. With new air mattresses too. And dry firewood, collected from our own yard.
Never a dull moment around here.
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