I don’t think my butt has ever hurt so much after a camping trip. I’ve had bruised knees, sprained ankles, broken nails, sooty hands, a singed eyebrow and lots of bug bites. Okay, the broken tailbone was painful. I probably should have guessed that those Rensselaer boys would take the term ‘speed boat’ too literally.
Overall, the camping with boys endeavor would have been far more prolific in the flirting and phone numbers (that’s phonetic right there, it’s still alliteration) departments if we hadn’t arrived on Turtle Island after dark on Friday and departed long before anyone else woke up on Sunday morning. I had to try really hard to pretend that it was completely normal and not at all fleeting or temporary to be hiking and cliff jumping and playing Cranium with boys. It was like wearing blinders to the fact that none of said boys were entirely positive about my name and that after barely a forty-eight hour period, my life would once again be testosterone-free.
Mount Holyoke inadvertently chose the spontaneous tent-spawning campsite – every time we turned around a new and unfamiliar tent had sprung up beside ours. Perhaps cookies sprout random boys in tents who snore?
Saturday night was the much-anticipated contra dance. There was more people watching and apple cider than there were shuffle steps on my part, but if I had been lost in the churning crowd, I would never have become visually aquainted with characters like Bon Jovi aka The Gypsy, Blue Shirt aka Bionic Hearing, Polo (formerly known as Blue Shirt), Canary Pants, Spitty, Poison Ivy, Glowstick Guy, Cowboy and Unicycle Cowboy.
And, for those who wonder, I’ll try anything once.
quote of the day: “Shake me and my confidence, about a great many things, But I’ve been there, I can see it cower, Like a nervous magician waiting in the wings” – Blues Traveller
And also…
Emily: Okay, we have to look like we’re involved in a deep conversation.
Holly: Hurry, think of a topic!
Emily: Flip-flops!
Holly: Bon Jovi!
Leave a Reply