Once Upon a Time: True Stories of an Aspiring Writer

9: Misadventures in Camping

 IT'S A RITE OF PASSAGE that not everyone embarks on: the overnight field trip.

Day trips, too. My school took me to various places, often in Philadelphia. We went to tile museums, city museums, into town for a mapmaking expedition, to the aquarium, and even to see a play at one point. In high school we'd also take a multi-day field trip to a certain city every year; first Baltimore, then Philly, then Boston. 

Everyone loved field trips! This was especially true when we required a fancy bus with a toilet and TV screens. One particularly memorable third-grade trip took us to the aquarium in Baltimore, where Haley and I enjoyed listening to each other's CDs. I fell in love with the Kidz Bop version of "Complicated."

Actually, it was one day in the fourth grade preparing to go to yet another museum when it hit me like a ton of bricks: field trips sucked.

I mean, what did we do? Sure, we got to get out of school. We got to ride the bus and play the Alphabet Game. Or, in one case, sing "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." 

But once we got there, things changed. We got to walk around boring museums for a long period of time. I found myself missing tire swing smoothies at recess, talking about dreams at lunch, and silent reading time. Heck, I'd rather be sitting in weekly meeting for worship in silence for twenty minutes. They weren't nearly as bad as I thought they were in kindergarten.

In fifth grade we pulled out the big guns: overnight camping. Going to rural Maryland for three days was a fifth and sixth-grade tradition. 

Days before the trip, one of the faculty members who would be joining us came to talk about it. We drew pictures of what the tents would look like on the whiteboard and shared stories about trips past. I felt like it was a nuisance that I would have to get out of the way. I never really liked camping, and was less excited about this field trip than any of the others. Meanwhile, at home, Dad showed me how to roll up and pack away my sleeping bag once the day was finished. Three days couldn't be that bad, right? Besides, we went camping with Adventure Princesses twice a year, albeit with less structure and team building.

It wasn't like I hadn't been away from home before, either. Sleepovers with Grandma and Grandpa were a common occurrence, but those took place in a comfy house with lots of goodies to eat and fun places to go, like our favorite restaurants. I'd also gone to Christine's for a sleepover in the mere first grade. We'd had a blast writing stories, playing board games, and watching The Book of Pooh.

That morning, I finished washing up in the bathroom knowing that something embarrassing was bound to happen. It started off smoothly. We boarded a really nice bus where we watched The Incredibles and chatted amongst ourselves. It was one of the most boring drives I'd ever had. Driving through rural farmland of Maryland was just that: rural farms that never, ever ended. Baltimore was literally right across the bay. Unfortunately, because someone designed the state poorly you'd never know it---it would still take 90 minutes to two hours to go around it and drive there. We were in the woods, far far away.

We eventually reached a long, wooded driveway that we turned into. Before we even got off the bus, we were greeted by a cheerful staff member in a Hawaiian-print shirt.

"Hey, guys!" he said. "My name's Will. I'll be one of your leaders for the next three days. Are you guys ready to have some fun?"

"Yeah!" we all said in a happy chorus like kids in cartoons.

Will would eventually teach us a great song about a moose. It would begin by him singing one line and us repeating it. When we were all together outside of our individual groups, we would often sing the moose song. "There was a great big moose!" Will would begin. We'd repeat. That would be followed by the phrase, "He liked to drink a lot of juice!" which we'd also repeat. There was a whole song about this moose.