Every campground has a dumping station. This is where trailers can empty their waste-water holding tanks. It is also a place for a kind of entertainment called people watching. Think of it as being on a boardwalk, sitting on the bench, and watching the public pass by. It is amazing what we reveal about ourselves without intention. As an observer, it is fun to imagine a person’s occupation or character by how they look or dress, whether their hands are calloused or manicured, if they were friendly, grumpy and so on.
The gazebo and sitting area outside of the office is the equivalent to front row, middle seats, under the big top and the dump station is the center ring in our little circus. It is where our seasonal camper coffee club gathers each morning to do their people watching. When a trailer pulls up to dump, it’s as though the circus ringmaster has come to introduce the main act and draw everyone’s attention to the center ring. The anticipation is almost palpable as all eyes do a quick scan of the newest performer. Then, in almost a fever pitch, the assessments and betting begin; “Pro or newbie?” Gloves or no gloves? Will they wash their hands when they finish?, Will they rinse the sewer hose before putting it back? And on and on it goes, until the unit pulls away and they wait for the next unit to provide the encore.
Last week, I wished I had a video camera on the dump station so that I could have played back the unit we had mid-week. No one was around to watch, with the exception of the few of us working in the office. The ease of his approach and knowledge of how far forward he needed to be in order to line up the valves with the septic cap told us he was not a newbie. What happened after, had us naming all the occupations we prayed he wasn’t involved in, chef being at the top of the list.
As he pulled the sewer hose from the storage compartment, he simultaneously lit a cigarette. Not wearing any gloves, he proceeded to hookup to the waste water valve and dump the holding tanks, all the while handling the rinse hose, which had, just moments before, been down the sewer hose of the previous unit, and putting the cigarette in and out of his mouth. You can almost see the e-coli and other bacteria jumping from hand to cigarette to mouth. When the tanks were emptied he rinsed the area while the water splashed his sandaled feet, hung the hose and wiped his hands on his jeans, shuffled his feet twice in the gravel, so as not to put mud on the floor of the truck, hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, and pulled out. All the while the audience in the office gasped, groaned, and gagged in disbelief.
One must wonder about his personal hygiene training. Was this man an orphan? Did he not have a mother growing up? Obviously, if he didn’t wash his hands after that repulsive show, it would be a safe bet that he doesn’t wash after using the bathroom. Perhaps he worked in a sewer treatment plant, and the concentration of bacteria is all relative in his mind. We wondered if his lady was o.k. with his personal hygiene habits. I myself know that on Wednesdays, when my husband has to pump out the holding tanks of all the seasonal trailers, even though he wears gloves and washes his hands after the gloves are removed, he could not possibly exude enough pheromones for me to feel any attraction until after he has showered and scrubbed every inch of his body.
I contemplated relocating the antibacterial hand wash in the store to a more visible spot, but as he pulled away, my subconscious propelled me to the back room where I washed my own hands in a futile gesture of hygiene by proxy.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Granma needs a dryer
When you have a campground, it is important that an owner, manager or at the very least, an employee lives on the camp property. The ability to see the residence gives a feel of security, and accessibility to the customers. You do have to give consideration as to who that person will be, since they will be in a position to be observed by campers in their daily living habits. Off duty behavior can leave a big impression.
We have a cottage in the center of the camp by the swimming lake that was at one time a rental unit. After my husband’s youngest brother married, their parents turned the family home over to him and moved into the cabin by the lake. Not the wisest decision for an abundance of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that there was a full flight of steps which separated the kitchen & bathroom level from the bedroom and living room level. My in-laws being in their 70’s would have fared better in a ranch house. Dad however was set on living in the cabin, and whatever dad wanted mom granted.
Mom had a problem with blood pressure. I often wonder if high blood pressure is just another occupational hazard in owning a campground. It’s amazing how quickly your pressure can rise when dealing with the public on a daily basis. Not everyone is a pleasure to deal with and that includes the owner as well as the camper. There are situations that cause such a surge in pressure that I can imagine a simple bug bite at the right time and in the correct location could cause an arterial spurt causing you to bleed out where you stand.
One night, she went downstairs and blacked out, hitting her head on the concrete floor. The resulting brain hemmorrhage unfortunately aged her by about 10 years. For the most part they lived simply and quietly like most senior citizens. Occasionally, though, she would forget there were other people around.
One day, my son came rushing into the office to tell me to have his father stop grandma from hanging her laundry outside, now that they are living in the middle of the campground. Thinking his motive was embarrassment for his grandparents hanging on to old habits, and not always embracing the progress made in technology: i.e.: electric dryers, I tried to reason with him. I reminded him they are from a different generation and Grandma enjoys hanging her clothes outside and likes the way they smell after being in the fresh air. “No, she’s doing ALL her laundry”, he said. Still not comprehending what the problem might be, I answered with a “so what?’
That’s when my son made himself clear. He literally meant ALL the laundry. As in she’s not wearing clothes while hanging the wash! That facilitated a call to my husband to rush over to camp and get Granny inside and explain why she shouldn’t wait until there were no clean clothes before doing the wash. Later we had to laugh, my son claiming he thought he was going to go blind, and would probably have nightmares for the rest of his life. I guess seeing your 78 year old grandmother without clothes is not the image a 15 year old boy wants imprinted on the retina! Lucky for us it was a weekday and there were not many campers around.
Inhibitions were never to blame when it came to my husband's parents. They lived in a different time and place from which I was raised. Our cultural clashes were often used as fodder for stories from both perspectives. I find myself missing them now that they're gone but keep my fingers crossed tight that when I'm old, I'll remember to keep up with the laundry, and not give my kids anything to blog about!
We have a cottage in the center of the camp by the swimming lake that was at one time a rental unit. After my husband’s youngest brother married, their parents turned the family home over to him and moved into the cabin by the lake. Not the wisest decision for an abundance of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that there was a full flight of steps which separated the kitchen & bathroom level from the bedroom and living room level. My in-laws being in their 70’s would have fared better in a ranch house. Dad however was set on living in the cabin, and whatever dad wanted mom granted.
Mom had a problem with blood pressure. I often wonder if high blood pressure is just another occupational hazard in owning a campground. It’s amazing how quickly your pressure can rise when dealing with the public on a daily basis. Not everyone is a pleasure to deal with and that includes the owner as well as the camper. There are situations that cause such a surge in pressure that I can imagine a simple bug bite at the right time and in the correct location could cause an arterial spurt causing you to bleed out where you stand.
One night, she went downstairs and blacked out, hitting her head on the concrete floor. The resulting brain hemmorrhage unfortunately aged her by about 10 years. For the most part they lived simply and quietly like most senior citizens. Occasionally, though, she would forget there were other people around.
One day, my son came rushing into the office to tell me to have his father stop grandma from hanging her laundry outside, now that they are living in the middle of the campground. Thinking his motive was embarrassment for his grandparents hanging on to old habits, and not always embracing the progress made in technology: i.e.: electric dryers, I tried to reason with him. I reminded him they are from a different generation and Grandma enjoys hanging her clothes outside and likes the way they smell after being in the fresh air. “No, she’s doing ALL her laundry”, he said. Still not comprehending what the problem might be, I answered with a “so what?’
That’s when my son made himself clear. He literally meant ALL the laundry. As in she’s not wearing clothes while hanging the wash! That facilitated a call to my husband to rush over to camp and get Granny inside and explain why she shouldn’t wait until there were no clean clothes before doing the wash. Later we had to laugh, my son claiming he thought he was going to go blind, and would probably have nightmares for the rest of his life. I guess seeing your 78 year old grandmother without clothes is not the image a 15 year old boy wants imprinted on the retina! Lucky for us it was a weekday and there were not many campers around.
Inhibitions were never to blame when it came to my husband's parents. They lived in a different time and place from which I was raised. Our cultural clashes were often used as fodder for stories from both perspectives. I find myself missing them now that they're gone but keep my fingers crossed tight that when I'm old, I'll remember to keep up with the laundry, and not give my kids anything to blog about!
Memorial Weekend 2010
Thursday morning of Memorial weekend and I approach the coffee pot. Coffee being my morning oracle, I pour with caution, first taking in the aroma, in the same way one tests the water by dipping their toe in the pool before jumping in. The first sip of coffee can set the mood and method in which you approach the situations that arise for the
remainder of the day.
This morning’s coffee was no elixir, but it wasn’t terrible either. Just on average cup, foretelling what could be an average day. Although weekends usually begin on Friday, holiday weekends can be the exception to the rule. Some people take off Friday and come a day early to extend the 3-day weekend into four. We were expecting only a few of them to arrive this afternoon. Thursday arrivals help reduce the mayhem created by fifty or more sites arriving at the same time to check in. There are times that our quiet country road mimics the LA freeway during rush hour.
I glanced at the clock, 7:45am. I carried my cup to the laptop that springs to life at the touch of a key. Checking the various e-mails, I discover there is nothing imperative that needs my attention in that department. Reviewing the weekend’s planned activities; I do a mental check to see if everything is at the ready. Organization not being my forte, I have to make a concerted effort when it comes to holiday weekends. There are periods of time when it becomes so hectic in the registration office that it resembles the floor of the stock exchange, with employees scrambling for registers, bodies clashing together at every turn calling out needs and demands in a frenzied commotion. It always happens that campers arrive at the same hour throngs of wolf watchers arrive to register. The day went without any serious mishaps and I closed the doors and went home at 6:30. We were invited out for dinner and I decided to go for it, knowing it might be the last good meal until Monday night. My husband, workaholic that he is, opted to stay home and finish the mowing he didn’t get to do on Wednesday. I smiled to myself when it began to rain while at dinner. I knew he wouldn’t be working into the night and might get to bed at a reasonable hour.
Being the insomniac that I am, I often claim to wonder at the ability that my husband, has when it comes to slumber. However, if one reviews his daily activities, it is a wonder that he can function for as many hours as he does. This week especially, most days he was out of bed by 6:30am and didn’t come back to the house until 9pm. Doing backhoe work, mowing and all the various other jobs, causes near coma-like sleep when he finally collapses onto the bed after his shower. His hours are not just long, but full of strenuous, physical work.
At dinner, we discussed the ability to sleep that most around the table possessed. I am always amazed that there are folks who really do get 6 to 8 hours of sleep on a regular basis. I am lucky if I sleep for an hour without waking. A sleep study revealed I wake 6 to 10 times per hour on average. It is something I’ve gotten used to over the years, and I think if I did sleep now, the brain mass which we refer to as my evil twin would be to blame. What keeps me awake most times is a jingle or song that gets stuck on replay in my brain. Of course it didn’t help when at dinner, everyone was recalling theme songs from old TV shows and commercials, trying to guess which one would replay in my head tonight.
At 5 am I couldn’t lay in bed any longer so I decided to e-mail two of my dinner companions their answer. The e-mail went like this…
"Be glad I’m not calling you!
Here we come, walkin down the street, we get the funniest looks from , everyone we meet!
hey, hey we're the monkeys , people say we monkey around, but we're too busy singing to put anybody down....................
what do you want when you gotta have something ..and it's gotta be sweet...and it's gotta be alot.. and you only have a dime??
don't forget
hotdogs, armour hotdogs, what kind of kids love amour hotdogs, big kids little kids, kids who climb on rocks, fat kids, skinny kids, even kids with chickenpox love hot dogs, armour hot dogs, the dogs kids love to bite!
need we go into oscar meyer weiners?
goin back to bed now!!!"
The sign on the door states we open for business at 9am, but I wanted to get in early so all the preliminary prep work would be complete, and I’d be able to enjoy my coffee while it was still hot and fresh. Too often, I get one or two sips before I’m interrupted and set the cup down only to find it hours later, with an uninvited insect that did a swan dive into the black abyss. This memorial day, being the first weekend filled to capacity, I was mentally gearing up for the hours I’d be spending in this building, where we spend all but the time we set aside for sleep.
The phone started ringing before 7:30 am with campers who waited until they got a favorable weather forecast. The flaw in their plan is that by the time the weather is predicted, all the sites are full and they have nowhere to go. Holidays being a 3-day minimum weekend, people expect you to reserve just for Saturday night and not only do they become indignant that you require 3 nights, but they do not believe you when you tell them there are no sites remaining.
I unlocked the door as I took my last swig of coffee, debated having breakfast, but did not follow through. Regretting that decision at about 10am, my stomach growled at the people signing in for the wolf watch. I couldn’t wait for the frenzy to subside at 10:30 when the shuttle to the wolf preserve would pull away from the front of the office with eager animal lovers. Before the dust settled, I found myself foraging for food in the kitchen. Hmm, no time to cook anything and the milk was on the verge of being chunky.
I popped a handful of dry cheerios in my mouth just as the phone rang, so I hurried back to the office garbling into the cordless phone the message I have repeated hundreds of times all week. “no, I’m sorry we are full for the weekend – no the cabins and rv rentals are full – no there are no campsites available either, we’re full. No, I do not know where you can find a campsite, holidays book a month or more in advance. No, we have nothing for just Saturday night, it’s a three night minimum. No we are completely filled until Monday…yes I am sure…. I hang up as the other line is ringing only to go through the entire dialogue again and wonder what part of “no we are full” do they not understand.
There was a steady flow of campers checking in throughout the day. It was helpful that there were no wolf watches in the afternoon. Lunch and dinner was the leftover ziti I made on Wednesday. All in all, things went pretty smoothly and everyone that we expected in was here by 10:30pm. I started to cash out the registers as my husband went to mop shower floors. We checked the bathrooms to be sure toilet tissue and hand soap was well stocked, and arrived home at 10:45 as the rain started to fall. Rain at that time is a godsend and means that my husband and my son won’t have to walk camp to be sure everyone is quiet, so others are able to sleep. Rain drives everyone into their tent and prevents the talking and drinking around the campfire. We were thankfully in bed by eleven.
The first of the three night holiday now in the past, I was trying to store up energy to face the next three days. Tomorrow would be Saturday, but I tried to trick my mind into thinking this day, hectic as it was, never happened, and it will be Friday tomorrow, leaving the normal 40 hours in three days schedule rather than the 50-52 hours put in on three night holidays.
Saturday began early, just as the previous day, with coffee, no breakfast and phone calls
Wolf watchers and campers were registered and the phone continued to ring off the hook. When the morning wolf watch returned at noon and finally finished their shopping, we were all wondering what we might eat for lunch. Luckily I had the foresight to defrost some sausages and my daughter had put them in the oven, sautéed peppers and onions and we had a quick lunch. Mid afternoon the treasure hunt had been solved and my son and his fiancée who also works here, were organizing kids for the shooting contest in the lounge. They had to knock down a pyramid of coke cans with a gun that shot ping pong balls. With that finished, we settled in for the rest of the day’s normal activities in the store. Once again, was the steady flow of customers in and out of the office and store, making purchases and asking directions to events and attractions in the area. The phone still rang with people hopeful that there might have been a cancellation, and us telling them over and over that we are full. Being a holiday weekend the amount of people for the wolf watches was astounding. Evening approached and things slowed down as people began to settle in front of their campfires. Dinner consists of a package of bright orange colored cheese crackers grabbed from under the counter. We had posted that the store would close at 9pm and it seemed we were actually going to be able to accomplish that. We cashed out and did the normal routine of closing up and went home. We looked forward to watching some TV before my husband had to go and walk camp. At 9:30pm we had our first phone complaint of noisy campers. My husband explained that quiet hours didn’t start till 11pm, but since the caller made it sound like the noise was over the top he decided to make the trek up to the tent section to ask them to tone it down and remind them that 11pm was quiet time. When he arrived, he didn’t think it was very loud, but cautioned the offenders on how far voices carry at night.
Between 10:30pm and 12:30 am we received three more calls regarding the same sites by the same callers. The last call came just as I had begun to fall asleep. I tried very hard to keep my temper when they complained about this being the fourth time they had to call with no result. I reminded them that the first calls came before quiet hours were in effect and they could barely be heard outside of their sites when the manager was up there. I did however assure them he would once again go up since it was definitely after quiet hours now, but to come out of the tent so he might speak with them also. When my husband returned, he told me that another nearby site remarked the loudest thing they heard was the complaining campers yelling obscenities to the others to be quiet. I suspect they were just annoyed with the rain and trying to find a way to get a refund. When they realized that wouldn’t work, they added a complaint that people were walking down the road at night with flashlights. My husband assured them that he was not going to prohibit people from walking to the bathroom at night and told them not to call again. We had another site that we did not rent because it needed more work, but told them they could move in the morning if they so desired. Although the phone did not ring for the rest of the night, all chances of falling back asleep were done for me. I got out of bed and read for the rest of the night until it was time to go back to the office.
Sunday was pretty much a rerun of Saturday. We moved the campers who complained the night before to another site and they were thrilled with the new location. It was hard to keep up with the rental of paddle boats, kayaks and mini golf. As I recall, breakfast and lunch was graham crackers, popcorn and an ice cream bar, but my daughter made a great salad for dinner. Once again, we closed about 10:30pm, my husband walked camp and we went to bed.
By Monday morning, my body and mind were battling over going to work. I was praying for 6pm to arrive so that I could go home. First thing in the morning as I unlocked the front door I caught the distinct odor of steak on an open fire. That sealed it – I needed to have steak for dinner and nothing else would do it. Monday the minutes seemed like hours, and I was impatient for the day to end. Feeling total exhaustion, what kept me going was the thought of a juicy steak. Being Monday, all local restaurants were closed so we had to drive to Stroudsburg. The steak was wonderful and filling. Finally at home, we sat down to unwind from the weekend. I was sure I would get at least a couple of hours of sound sleep and couldn’t wait for my head to hit the pillow. I awoke at 1am, and had difficulty falling back asleep until about 5am, but was not worried because I did not have to get out of bed till 8:45. At 6:45, the phone rang. I reluctantly answered only to find someone on the other line asking about fees for the dumping station. He was not one of my campers, but rather the type who camp for free in mall parking lots and then is looking for a place to dump and drop off garbage. What is he thinking calling at this hour? I told him to call back after 9 when the office would be open. But he continued to ask more questions. Annoyed, I dropped the phone back in the cradle mumbling, one three-day holiday weekend down, only three more to go.
remainder of the day.
This morning’s coffee was no elixir, but it wasn’t terrible either. Just on average cup, foretelling what could be an average day. Although weekends usually begin on Friday, holiday weekends can be the exception to the rule. Some people take off Friday and come a day early to extend the 3-day weekend into four. We were expecting only a few of them to arrive this afternoon. Thursday arrivals help reduce the mayhem created by fifty or more sites arriving at the same time to check in. There are times that our quiet country road mimics the LA freeway during rush hour.
I glanced at the clock, 7:45am. I carried my cup to the laptop that springs to life at the touch of a key. Checking the various e-mails, I discover there is nothing imperative that needs my attention in that department. Reviewing the weekend’s planned activities; I do a mental check to see if everything is at the ready. Organization not being my forte, I have to make a concerted effort when it comes to holiday weekends. There are periods of time when it becomes so hectic in the registration office that it resembles the floor of the stock exchange, with employees scrambling for registers, bodies clashing together at every turn calling out needs and demands in a frenzied commotion. It always happens that campers arrive at the same hour throngs of wolf watchers arrive to register. The day went without any serious mishaps and I closed the doors and went home at 6:30. We were invited out for dinner and I decided to go for it, knowing it might be the last good meal until Monday night. My husband, workaholic that he is, opted to stay home and finish the mowing he didn’t get to do on Wednesday. I smiled to myself when it began to rain while at dinner. I knew he wouldn’t be working into the night and might get to bed at a reasonable hour.
Being the insomniac that I am, I often claim to wonder at the ability that my husband, has when it comes to slumber. However, if one reviews his daily activities, it is a wonder that he can function for as many hours as he does. This week especially, most days he was out of bed by 6:30am and didn’t come back to the house until 9pm. Doing backhoe work, mowing and all the various other jobs, causes near coma-like sleep when he finally collapses onto the bed after his shower. His hours are not just long, but full of strenuous, physical work.
At dinner, we discussed the ability to sleep that most around the table possessed. I am always amazed that there are folks who really do get 6 to 8 hours of sleep on a regular basis. I am lucky if I sleep for an hour without waking. A sleep study revealed I wake 6 to 10 times per hour on average. It is something I’ve gotten used to over the years, and I think if I did sleep now, the brain mass which we refer to as my evil twin would be to blame. What keeps me awake most times is a jingle or song that gets stuck on replay in my brain. Of course it didn’t help when at dinner, everyone was recalling theme songs from old TV shows and commercials, trying to guess which one would replay in my head tonight.
At 5 am I couldn’t lay in bed any longer so I decided to e-mail two of my dinner companions their answer. The e-mail went like this…
"Be glad I’m not calling you!
Here we come, walkin down the street, we get the funniest looks from , everyone we meet!
hey, hey we're the monkeys , people say we monkey around, but we're too busy singing to put anybody down....................
what do you want when you gotta have something ..and it's gotta be sweet...and it's gotta be alot.. and you only have a dime??
don't forget
hotdogs, armour hotdogs, what kind of kids love amour hotdogs, big kids little kids, kids who climb on rocks, fat kids, skinny kids, even kids with chickenpox love hot dogs, armour hot dogs, the dogs kids love to bite!
need we go into oscar meyer weiners?
goin back to bed now!!!"
The sign on the door states we open for business at 9am, but I wanted to get in early so all the preliminary prep work would be complete, and I’d be able to enjoy my coffee while it was still hot and fresh. Too often, I get one or two sips before I’m interrupted and set the cup down only to find it hours later, with an uninvited insect that did a swan dive into the black abyss. This memorial day, being the first weekend filled to capacity, I was mentally gearing up for the hours I’d be spending in this building, where we spend all but the time we set aside for sleep.
The phone started ringing before 7:30 am with campers who waited until they got a favorable weather forecast. The flaw in their plan is that by the time the weather is predicted, all the sites are full and they have nowhere to go. Holidays being a 3-day minimum weekend, people expect you to reserve just for Saturday night and not only do they become indignant that you require 3 nights, but they do not believe you when you tell them there are no sites remaining.
I unlocked the door as I took my last swig of coffee, debated having breakfast, but did not follow through. Regretting that decision at about 10am, my stomach growled at the people signing in for the wolf watch. I couldn’t wait for the frenzy to subside at 10:30 when the shuttle to the wolf preserve would pull away from the front of the office with eager animal lovers. Before the dust settled, I found myself foraging for food in the kitchen. Hmm, no time to cook anything and the milk was on the verge of being chunky.
I popped a handful of dry cheerios in my mouth just as the phone rang, so I hurried back to the office garbling into the cordless phone the message I have repeated hundreds of times all week. “no, I’m sorry we are full for the weekend – no the cabins and rv rentals are full – no there are no campsites available either, we’re full. No, I do not know where you can find a campsite, holidays book a month or more in advance. No, we have nothing for just Saturday night, it’s a three night minimum. No we are completely filled until Monday…yes I am sure…. I hang up as the other line is ringing only to go through the entire dialogue again and wonder what part of “no we are full” do they not understand.
There was a steady flow of campers checking in throughout the day. It was helpful that there were no wolf watches in the afternoon. Lunch and dinner was the leftover ziti I made on Wednesday. All in all, things went pretty smoothly and everyone that we expected in was here by 10:30pm. I started to cash out the registers as my husband went to mop shower floors. We checked the bathrooms to be sure toilet tissue and hand soap was well stocked, and arrived home at 10:45 as the rain started to fall. Rain at that time is a godsend and means that my husband and my son won’t have to walk camp to be sure everyone is quiet, so others are able to sleep. Rain drives everyone into their tent and prevents the talking and drinking around the campfire. We were thankfully in bed by eleven.
The first of the three night holiday now in the past, I was trying to store up energy to face the next three days. Tomorrow would be Saturday, but I tried to trick my mind into thinking this day, hectic as it was, never happened, and it will be Friday tomorrow, leaving the normal 40 hours in three days schedule rather than the 50-52 hours put in on three night holidays.
Saturday began early, just as the previous day, with coffee, no breakfast and phone calls
Wolf watchers and campers were registered and the phone continued to ring off the hook. When the morning wolf watch returned at noon and finally finished their shopping, we were all wondering what we might eat for lunch. Luckily I had the foresight to defrost some sausages and my daughter had put them in the oven, sautéed peppers and onions and we had a quick lunch. Mid afternoon the treasure hunt had been solved and my son and his fiancée who also works here, were organizing kids for the shooting contest in the lounge. They had to knock down a pyramid of coke cans with a gun that shot ping pong balls. With that finished, we settled in for the rest of the day’s normal activities in the store. Once again, was the steady flow of customers in and out of the office and store, making purchases and asking directions to events and attractions in the area. The phone still rang with people hopeful that there might have been a cancellation, and us telling them over and over that we are full. Being a holiday weekend the amount of people for the wolf watches was astounding. Evening approached and things slowed down as people began to settle in front of their campfires. Dinner consists of a package of bright orange colored cheese crackers grabbed from under the counter. We had posted that the store would close at 9pm and it seemed we were actually going to be able to accomplish that. We cashed out and did the normal routine of closing up and went home. We looked forward to watching some TV before my husband had to go and walk camp. At 9:30pm we had our first phone complaint of noisy campers. My husband explained that quiet hours didn’t start till 11pm, but since the caller made it sound like the noise was over the top he decided to make the trek up to the tent section to ask them to tone it down and remind them that 11pm was quiet time. When he arrived, he didn’t think it was very loud, but cautioned the offenders on how far voices carry at night.
Between 10:30pm and 12:30 am we received three more calls regarding the same sites by the same callers. The last call came just as I had begun to fall asleep. I tried very hard to keep my temper when they complained about this being the fourth time they had to call with no result. I reminded them that the first calls came before quiet hours were in effect and they could barely be heard outside of their sites when the manager was up there. I did however assure them he would once again go up since it was definitely after quiet hours now, but to come out of the tent so he might speak with them also. When my husband returned, he told me that another nearby site remarked the loudest thing they heard was the complaining campers yelling obscenities to the others to be quiet. I suspect they were just annoyed with the rain and trying to find a way to get a refund. When they realized that wouldn’t work, they added a complaint that people were walking down the road at night with flashlights. My husband assured them that he was not going to prohibit people from walking to the bathroom at night and told them not to call again. We had another site that we did not rent because it needed more work, but told them they could move in the morning if they so desired. Although the phone did not ring for the rest of the night, all chances of falling back asleep were done for me. I got out of bed and read for the rest of the night until it was time to go back to the office.
Sunday was pretty much a rerun of Saturday. We moved the campers who complained the night before to another site and they were thrilled with the new location. It was hard to keep up with the rental of paddle boats, kayaks and mini golf. As I recall, breakfast and lunch was graham crackers, popcorn and an ice cream bar, but my daughter made a great salad for dinner. Once again, we closed about 10:30pm, my husband walked camp and we went to bed.
By Monday morning, my body and mind were battling over going to work. I was praying for 6pm to arrive so that I could go home. First thing in the morning as I unlocked the front door I caught the distinct odor of steak on an open fire. That sealed it – I needed to have steak for dinner and nothing else would do it. Monday the minutes seemed like hours, and I was impatient for the day to end. Feeling total exhaustion, what kept me going was the thought of a juicy steak. Being Monday, all local restaurants were closed so we had to drive to Stroudsburg. The steak was wonderful and filling. Finally at home, we sat down to unwind from the weekend. I was sure I would get at least a couple of hours of sound sleep and couldn’t wait for my head to hit the pillow. I awoke at 1am, and had difficulty falling back asleep until about 5am, but was not worried because I did not have to get out of bed till 8:45. At 6:45, the phone rang. I reluctantly answered only to find someone on the other line asking about fees for the dumping station. He was not one of my campers, but rather the type who camp for free in mall parking lots and then is looking for a place to dump and drop off garbage. What is he thinking calling at this hour? I told him to call back after 9 when the office would be open. But he continued to ask more questions. Annoyed, I dropped the phone back in the cradle mumbling, one three-day holiday weekend down, only three more to go.
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