Camping weekend... (but no pictures yet, sorry!) -- MOM - SEND PIX!!!

So we went camping this weekend. It was a great trip and a horrible trip at the same time. Isn't it always? If you camp, you may know what I mean. So many great camping experiences are really hard to get through while they are happening, but are great looking back at. At least, that's the way I've always experienced them. Those really hard trips become especially memorable because of the difficulty.

I can't really figure out why it is that I like to camp. I think maybe it's something in my nature to be opposite of most people, to not like what other people like, just out of spite or something. Like Coach bags. I really COULD like Coach bags, probably, I just don't -- on principle. Too many people around here have them and spend too much money on them for me to want one.

I love camping just out of spite because so many other people hate it, and I'm able to handle it. There aren't many things that are difficult for (many) people that I actually enjoy. Especially if it calls for exercise or hard work or discomfort. And yet, I love to camp. I don't understand why, myself. I don't even like to sit out in my backyard and read on a beautiful spring day. I hate bugs. Pollen drives me out of my mind. So why do I like to camp?

So this camping trip was one I'd been waiting for, for a long time. We went back to the scene of our youth. As an older teen and twenty-something, I used to go with Frank to Dot and Charlie's house in Narrowsburg. Jimmy and Laura would come along, and assorted other people. And sometimes we would stay at Dot and Charlie's, but sometimes we would stay at Bob Landers Campground, and camp and raft.

This was the first time we'd take our children rafting. I don't know why we've waited so long to take them rafting, because it's a great trip for kids, but we never got around to it before.

We invited a bunch of people, and ended up with a good sized group. My family of four, Jimmy and his son James -- Laura didn't make it, or Tara; Ray and his boys, (but Marisa's not that into camping, so she stayed home), Booth -- who's Frankie's friend from Boy Scouts -- asked his God Father to bring him; and I invited my Mom and Dad, who even though they are in their 60's are still very young and are willing to camp. And they know HOW to camp, so they can make themselves reasonably comfortable, which is good. And they don't complain much, which is also good. And they brought my nephew William. (Which is really the only reason they decided to come.)

My Mom and I don't do boats. (Like I said -- alot of things make me uncomfortable, and so I don't do them. Mom and I both get seasick on rocking chairs. We've gotten seasick watching a boat on TV. For real, I'm not kidding.) So the raft wasn't the reason I was there. To get on a boat, I would have to take enough dramamine to make myself sleep through most of the trip, and it just isn't worth it. So Mom and I didn't go.

We went shopping to an antique store, then had a lovely lunch at the Whistle Stop Cafe, and then picked up food for dinner. Then, we went back to the campsite to read our books and wait for the boys to come back down the river, right past our campsite.

When they floated up to the site, after some hours on the river, you could see they had a great time. Mom took some great photos (which I hope she sends me because I'd like to post them!) They had three rafts and tied them all together, and the boys all jumped in and out of the rafts and swam all day...

OK, so that was all the good stuff. And the weather was great, although it was hot as anything, and the company was very pleasant, everyone got along great, and the food was great, and the campfire was great, and no one got injured.

What was the horrible part???

When we were young, we used to come to this campground and party all night. We blasted our music and screamed and laughed. (well, everyone else in our group did, especially Frank. I usually drank a little and got sleepy and went to bed and listened to them scream all night.)

So now that we are old, why should I have been surprised that the campground was still frequented by people who like to party all night long?

Apparently, one of the people in the site next to us was a DJ, because he had an amazing sound system and tons of music. It was like being in a club. Your ears almost hurt to listen to it. I kept thinking that they would HAVE to go to bed EVENTUALLY. (Apparently, I was wrong.)

At 3:00 AM on Friday night, it was really getting aggravating. I didn't HATE the music, but I was pretty tired -- and a bit embarassed that my friends and family, who came on this trip that I had planned, had to put up with the neighbors being SO LOUD. (I was glad that my Mom had thought to bring earplugs, so she was a bit less disturbed -- but actually, she said she could hear the music right through the plugs.)

They finally settled down at 4 AM after one of the guys in our group went over and said something.

Saturday night, it was the same thing. 10:30, I couldn't take it anymore, and I went to complain to the office. I felt aggravated, guilty and hypocritical, and afraid that the neighboring group -- after drinking so long -- would act stupid and fight with us or something. But I complained anyway.

After 11:30, campground security started yelling at them, and after several warnings, I think they finally moved the party to a different location so we could sleep. But all night long, I worried that they were going to be so mad at us that they would retaliate or something. So I didn't sleep anyway.

So that's my camping story for this weekend. I hope to follow it up with some good photos if Mom reads this post and sends them to me...