Camping Fantasy vs. Camping Reality

One of the reasons I write is due to the fact that I often find myself in interesting situations. I’m one of those people who happen to fall into experiences and places with very different groups of people, and instead of finding a way to bow out of these circumstances I just ride it out hoping to learn something. This weekend, we decided to go camping. Normal, right? Nothing to crow over…except we decided to go on an excursion organized by one of our Orthodox Jewish friends. Out of the 75 people camping, we were in the group of a dozen non-Orthodox. That didn’t matter to me, because I had this amazing camping fantasy where we’d all get along and be singing by the campfire, while leaving our lifestyle differences, and the stark reality of why they refer to camping as "roughing it" behind.

Of course, I’m a delusional, fucking idiot, but now that our excursion is over, I’ve learned a few things. Much like most of my experiences, the fantasy is always heads above the reality, but instead of shitting all over the weekend adventure, I will use it to pass on the knowledge I’ve gained.

Camping in Groups – I don’t like going camping by ourselves; what’s the point. If it was just going to be me, my husband and my kid, then we might as well pitch the tent in the backyard and save the gas money. Instead, we decided to join this Orthodox Jewish group who organized a yearly camping excursion. The upside was that we didn’t have to worry about food; everything had to be kosher so our $125 family fee covered everything except our personal stash of munchies.

The downside was that we were camping with Orthodox Jews, and from Friday night at sundown to Saturday night at sundown we were forbidden from doing anything that constituted work. At 8:00 PM on Friday night, after getting lost a few times, were racing against the clock, because we had to do the most important part of setting up camp: getting the air mattress blown up. Some sturdy, more experienced campers might be able to get a good night’s rest with just the sleeping bag stuffing separating them from the cold, hard Earth, but I'm so not one of those people.

Camping Accommodations – 1 small tent + 2 adults + 1 toddler + 1 dog + a queen-sized air mattress = the biggest fucking leg cramps ever. We did make it work, though, and the first night we got decent sleep and all was well. The second night was not to be as good. A sharp rock spelled the death of the air mattress and the singing around the bonfire made the neurotic dog go crazy. The toddler also decided to help the situation by telling everyone in the vicinity of our tent that she was hungry, and she wanted her star blanky, and telling Fozzy to “shut up” every time he barked, you get the picture. I spent two hours sleeping on the ground with a rock jammed into my spine, then finally resorted to the reclined front seat of the car for the rest of the evening.

Camping Buddies/Neighbors – You head out to a group camp hoping to meet great people who you’ll bond with and maybe strike up a tradition of doing yearly camping excursions together. The last people you want to meet are those obnoxious bastards who can’t shut up when you’re trying to sleep, wake up too early every morning, stay up too late every night, and just offend you every time you lay eyes on them. On this trip, we were those people!

We were kitty-corner from a tent occupied by an Orthodox rabbi, his very Orthodox wife and their five or six kids. They hated our guts, and proceeded to give us the stinkeye all weekend. The thin material that makes up the walls of the tent couldn’t quite muffle the vast amount of arguing between them about their misfortune in choosing a spot next to us. Oh well, you can’t please everyone.

Camping Attire – I packed enough clothing for Jeff, Rachael and I for four days, which was a complete waste of time, because you spend your entire camping trip wearing the same socks and jeans. Admit it! Your best intentions of keeping up normal hygiene go straight out the window the moment you realize that trying to change without getting really cold or bug bitten to death or being seen naked just isn’t possible.

A few other things I’ve learned is that taking a dog camping is a good idea, unless he’s a neurotic cockerdoodle with separation anxiety. Unless you are all 18 years old, drunk, and horny, cramming four bodies into a two-person tent just doesn’t work. I learned that pissing someone off so badly that they don’t even talk to you is still funny no matter what age you are, and mostly, I learned that the best part of camping is coming home to a nice warm shower, and a cozy bed.