I am NOT a camper….Day 2

Why, oh why, do campsites insist on installing an oscillating ceiling fan beneath a light in a bathroom? Random flashbacks of 70s slasher flicks went through my head as I prepared for the morning at the KOA campsite in Sugarloaf Key, Fl. I am not a camper, clearly. The wife decided with local friends in the Florida area to go on a week camping trip for the family summer vacation this year. “Sure! Why not go h.elp clean up the gulf from the oil spill?” wasn’t the appropriate response, so I conceded. Besides Life 2.0 (more about that in another article) was my idea and I better make good on it. Of course, none of this was going through my head at 7am standing at the urinal as a large burly man came into the bathroom. No. I’m thinking this is where I’m going to die.

At least until he boomed “Good Morning!” with a snicker on his face like he knew I was doing it wrong. Yeah, I was doing it all wrong. I had packed at least 10 times the amount of clothes I would use. All of the wrong types too. I have nice polos, some collared bowling style shirts, even a nice long sleeve pull over if it got chilly. The fact that it was the dead of summer and we would be in the southern most area of the US didn’t really click. Much less that I was going to go camping. The only thing I needed was two pair of swim trunks, a pair of nice shorts, a hand full (maybe two with all the sweating) of t-shirts, and one of those bowler shirts. The 5 options of foot wear was also not a great choice. Yup pearls of wisdom from our most gracious and generous friends, the Pratts. If only I believed them when I was packing.

It turns out, I wasn’t the only one that thought that way. All my girls and my wife decided that it was Fashion Week in the Keys. Not only did I fill the Excursion (that’s right a Ford’s behemoth mutha-trucker) till the gills, I had to buy a cargo bag for the roof to store all the “camping gear” we were bringing.

As I left the men’s bathroom and my early morning scare, a number of other over friendly campers were starting their day. “Good mornings” and nods were exchanged with curious looks to my attire. Apparently, I’ve broken another southern Florida Guy Rule: No shirts. Every Tom, Dick, and hairy is walking around without shirts. Ironic as most, like me, can single handedly support a third world nation’s fabric production with the amount of cloth it would take to clothes us with one T-shirt.

Another thing about this camping is the amount of water sports involved. There’s kayaking, swimming in the pool, swimming in the ocean, boat rentals (I’m sure that’s coming next.) Guess who doesn’t swim? I can swim, I choose not to go through the effort at this stage of my life. Besides even I’m a little sick of my hip European speedo with beer belly..

Other than the hilarity I see in everyday things that make up my life, I’m having a good time.


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