One Friday night, G and I were heading to Greenlake for a quick bite, when the phone rang. It was Spock, wanting to see if we had plans.
Now, Spock never had much to say, but when he did, it usually had to do with getting high, or satisfying the munchies, which is what he needed to do now. He was always stoned on something–marijuana, hashish, quaaludes, cocaine, you name it–as if he was trying to give Cheech and Chong a run for their money. And the more stoned he was, the hungrier it made him.
So, Spock and Joanie met us at the Kidd Valley for burgers and onion rings. It was Spock’s favorite place, mostly because of the variety of milkshakes available, and that night he ordered three.
We watched in awe as he gulped down rootbeer, peanut butter, and pineapple shakes, in that order. And this was after he’d eaten his burger and rings. As he finished the last of his pineapple shake, G looked at his watch, and then turned to me and reminded me that we needed to get going in order to finish getting ready for our camping trip the next day. Which was all Joanie needed to hear.
“Camping? Ooh, count us in!”
To me, the idea of Joanie and Spock tagging along actually sounded plausible. After living nearly a year in Seattle, Washington–aka the Emerald City, the Northwest, the Evergreen State and the Pacific Rim–I loved my new home. It was so different from the concrete jungle of New York. In Seattle, it was, here-comes-nature-right-in-your-face, 24/7. I’d never seen so much green. Evergreen. Purple mountain majesties green. I figured whoever composed “America the Beautiful,” must have written it while visiting the Northwest.
I’d grown quite accustomed to the Seattle way of life, and enjoyed the cool summers and incessantly cloudy days. I was intrigued by the locals, who could be seen on any given day wearing down vests, parkas, flannel shirts, Birkenstocks and hiking shoes, as if any minute, they were going to hit the trails. But there was one thing I could not get used to:
That the number one pastime seemed to be camping.
It was an obsession, much like eating salmon and wearing sunglasses on days when there was no hint of sunshine. Everyone went camping, using any excuse to venture out and commune with nature. Me? I didn’t see the point, since all you really had to do to commune, was step outside your home, and nature would greet you at the door.
Plus, Latinos, as a rule, do not go camping. At least not back then. In fact, the concept was so alien to my family that, growing up, we’d spend many a vacation in the sleaziest, cheapest motels rather than consider camping. When I was 11, my family took a trip to the Poconos, and I swear, the motel we stayed at was the spitting image of the Bates Motel in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. I know this because my brother refused to take a shower there unless I stood guard by the bathroom door. Yet, given the choice of camping or the Bates Motel, we still would have chosen the motel.
Now, there are two kinds of camping. Camping for the adventurous, which generally involves hiking at least 10 miles off trail, carrying a backpack, with tent and sleeping bag, weighing 40 pounds minimum, and camping out in the middle of nowhere. As for the bathroom, well, there is none. You’re on your own. Then there’s camping for folks like me. This involves driving up to the camp spot, and setting up your tent. Bingo. There’s a bathroom nearby, complete with toilets and running water, just like you have in civilized society.
So, there you have it. I was a reluctant camper. It was not in my blood. G had to needle and cajole quite a bit before I acquiesced, which I did, provided we didn’t go camping the way he wanted. Nobody was going to make me hike with 40 pounds on my back, just for a chance to be confronted by some wild animals looking for an easy meal ticket. So, G did his best to accommodate me, which meant a shopping spree at REI, the store for all your outdoor needs. I bought supplies as if I was furnishing a home, determined to replicate indoor living in the great outdoors. And if Joanie and Spock came along, so be it. I kind of liked the idea of taking their RV–of which I still had a vested interest–and finally having the chance to spend a night in it.
“Of course, you guys should come!” I offered up in my most enthusiastic voice.
At first, G was puzzled by my over zealousness. He’d assumed I wouldn’t go for this, knowing how I like things to be planned out in advance with no curve balls tossed in. But, since he was always game for spending time with Joanie and Spock, who was sure to bring with him some pot, he happily agreed.
And so, it was a fete accompli. We were all going camping.
The next morning, the curve ball G knew I didn’t like, landed at our doorstep. For there was Joanie, all alone, with no Spock in sight.
“Ugh!” she moaned. “Poor Spock is sick to his stomach, so he’s not coming. He probably shouldn’t have had that last milkshake is my guess.” Really? It was the last milkshake and not the first two or all the drugs he did before dinner?
I looked out in the driveway. “Where’s the RV?”
“Oh, Geez, didn’t I tell you? Battery died yesterday. Spock’s going to try to get a new one later, if he’s up to it.”
I tried to grasp what she was saying. No Spock? No RV? And she was still coming, anyway? Didn’t she know that three’s a crowd? I glanced at G, but I already knew. Awkward as it felt, there was no way out of this without sounding rude. Nothing left to do but pack up the Datsun. G got behind the steering wheel, and, just as I was opening the front passenger door, Joanie hollered,
“I call the front!” Making a frowning face, she added, “Can’t sit in the back. It makes me nauseous.”
Darting past me, she slipped into the seat next to G. As I opened the back door, I remembered why I didn’t like curve balls.
Missed a chapter? Read past installments, by visiting the page, The Road Taken.
I’m sorry, but I’m really starting to dislike Joanie at this point of time. Kudos to you for putting up with her for so long! I would have never been able to do it!
I wasn’t as strong then as I am now. Now would be different. Back then, it was easy to take advantage of my overall good nature. Some would say I was a doormat. Maybe so.
I am so behind in my reading. I loved reading this!!
Thanks! It’s never too late to join me on the Road Taken. Glad you’re enjoying it! 😉
She’s so annoying!!
On a different note, I’ve never been camping. I love to hike though…I don’t mind a long hike and then being able to go home and get in my bed…If I had to stay and camp somewhere after a tiresome hike, I don’t think I would like that.
I’m with you on hiking. And yes, she’s annoying, but then, that’s life. On the plus, she gave me food for fodder.
Oh, Monica – I wish you could have seen my first camping experience with a friend on the Olympic Peninsula in a torrential downpour! He had bought a new tent for the occasion and neither one of us had a clue how to set it up. We could see people peeking through their curtains in their campers at the RV park to watch us while I attempted to read the directions as he set up the tent. Finally, one man took pity on us and came out with mugs of steaming hot chocolate for both of us. He didn’t offer to help us set up the tent, mind you, but the hot chocolate was to this day the best I’ve ever tasted!
Wow. That must have been a hoot for the other campers to be watching you while you struggled with the tent. But the hot cocoa sounds yummy!
I remember camping on the Olympic Peninsula, too.
The Northwest is truly a beautiful, amazing local and if I had to be forced into camping, I’m glad it was there.
that Joanie character drives me NUTS!! you have a lot of patience, and I have a lot of respect for that! but, sheesh- I might have thrown her to the curb after her comment about sitting in the front. ‘Take a hike, then!’ And I completely agree with you about camping.. I much prefer a bathroom and little hiking.. hehe.
Hey, Hannah! Glad you’re still reading. Thank you for stopping by!
My husband and I enjoy camping… with one another. Or another couple. But a third wheel? AWKWARD. You wrote this so fluidly that I felt transported back to a time when I was kicked to the back seat by an eager shotgun-caller. All I could think was, really?
There are many pluses to camping. I did end up enjoying small things like waking up in the morning to the smell of forest and coffee brewing. The sounds of a nearby brook. The crunch of dried leaves beneath your feet. But I just couldn’t camp on my ex’s terms and that ended up being a bone of contention.
Thank you for stopping by! I so appreciate it. 🙂
The woman arrives without her sidekick AND without the RV and still has the nerve to call shot gun? Really, Monica? I don’t think so. You were too nice, amiga. I would have yanked that woman by the pony tail and pointed her in the direction of the back seat. Or better yet, home. That’s the direction I would have pointed her to! Oh my goodness! My favorite line in this post: “Nobody was going to make me hike with 40 pounds on my back, just for a chance to be confronted by some wild animals looking for an easy meal ticket.” I’m still chuckling! That would have been one hell of a confrontation! Although come to think of it, had the situation arose, you had Joanie to throw at them! hee hee!
I know, I know. I was a wuss. I was young. But it’s all water under the bridge. I wish you’d been there to egg me on! Between the two of us, we would’ve have shown her a thing or two about sisterhood. Verdad? 🙂
Oooh so not a camping person, even with running water and toilets. Luckily my husband feels the same way. I love this story, the audacity of some people..I can’t wait to hear what happens next.
I also love your stunning descriptions of Seattle, it makes me want to visit instantly 🙂
Oh, I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! It’s been fun trying to capture the feel of those days and also, of Seattle.
I hate camping. Jews don’t camp either. Can’t wait to hear how this trip turns out!
Well, then, let’s make a pact to never go camping together. Or maybe we should and bankrupt the pastime! 🙂
America the Beautiful was inspired by a scenic view about 1/2 way up Pike’s Peak if I remember correctly. It was a beautiful spot. I’ve never been to the Northwest but now I think I might.
I love how you describe people and places – I can almost see and hear them…waiting patiently for the next installment
Interesting, I didn’t know the back story to America the Beautiful. I recommend everyone visit the Northwest at some point in their lives. It truly is a spectacular thing of beauty. Natural beauty. God’s palette. 🙂
I love certain camping activities… like hiking, canoeing, cooking over the fire. But I don’t like sleeping on the ground and I don’t like being dirty. So when we “camp” with my family, we spend the day at the campsite and the night in a hotel or cabin. Best of both worlds!
That is an awesome way to camp! Too bad we didn’t think about doing it that way then. 😉
I’m not a camping person either, although I enjoy the great outdoors. Roughing it isn’t my idea of a vacation!
Vacations are too short to waste time roughing it! 🙂
I love your writing. Beautifully descriptive. Funny. Flowing.
Love this line: … I figured whoever composed “America the Beautiful,” must have written it while visiting the Northwest.
Seriously, i’d rather stay at the Bates Motel with Norman than go camping with woodticks and yucky stuff!
This was a superb post….what happens next???? xxx
Trust me, I’m so glad I don’t HAVE to go camping anymore. I’m with you on the woodticks.
Thank you for your kind, supportive words. I so appreciate it. 🙂
Oh my goodness! She really sounds like a character! Sounds like the trip from Hell.
Funny how in retrospect it seems much worse. At the time, I wasn’t reading the writing on the walls.
I know what you mean, from my own experiences…it’s kind of like the frog in the pot of water. The heat gets turned up, but he doesn’t notice because it happens so slowly…
I am not a camper. Give me a hotel with room service or a nice bed and breakfast.
I am so with you! In fact, after we separated and divorced, I found that one of the perks of being on my own was I didn’t have to go camping anymore! 🙂