Camping in Khasigstan

When I last left you, I was running from the feral beer ticket agent while observing my hometowns finest. As much as I wanted to go back for more on night two, even I needed a break from over stimulation. I should bring you up to speed on some logistics. It's now day 5 of my vacation and I am living out of a tent exactly one mile from my home. Yeah, that was my bright idea. I loved to camp as a child so in theory that should have carried over into adulthood, right? Not so much. Yes, back in the spring I arranged for my family to pop a squat at this beautiful state park where I run trails. In my mind I would stumble home from the fair drunk, get up and run through the woods and sing stupid camp songs by the fire. Exactly none of that happened. This is where we have to remind ourselves that some ideas are best left to fantasy so as not to reveal who we really are. Sometimes it's just too scary!

It was at least one million degrees when we decided to set up camp. As I looked at the savvy vacationers across the way, I suddenly found myself coveting thy neighbors RV. While they were sipping beer in their air conditioned house on wheels, I was shoving poles up my ass trying to figure out what man wrote the directions on tent assembly! I decided it would be best if I left the tent to my husband while I worked on blowing up the air mattress. Yes, I said air mattress. To be precise, I was sleeping on one queen sized, pillow top mattress that blows up and deflates in exactly 1 minute. It's not and RV but at least I would be sleeping in comfort...or so I thought. Stepping back to observe our luxurious accommodations, we weren't sure if we should have pitched the tent around the mattress or vice versa. As soon we unzipped the front door,the mattress basically popped out at us. Kinda like when they cut your skull open to release brain pressure...without the life threatening part. It's was high time for a beer...and food...and more beer.

Before we got too intoxicated we decided to take a dip. The pool in this particular park, is made from a natural waterfall. Ahhhh...yeah....ahhh until you stick your feet in 65 degree water with real live fish swimming around! As I looked up at the lifeguards, I noticed that they were watching us. What the F? Suddenly I had a random childhood memory of having to pass a swimming test before being allowed to swim here. At 35 would they make me relive this traumatic childhood experience? Apparently not. They must have just thought I was hot or something. I get that a lot. Of course knowing that we were going to take a dip would imply that we had on swimming attire, right? Wrong. We hiked all the way back to camp (about.0008 of a mile) to get changed. We grabbed Mom & Dad and left out the part about the cold water, the fish and the swimming test. I think we used words like refreshing and you'll love it. We got back to the pool prepared to jump in and take our body temperature down about 400 degrees. I didn't even have one toe in the water when I heard, "You can't swim here." Snap! He really was going to make me take the test. He had no idea that I was open water certified (God help whoever I tricked into that one). I was reaching for my YMCA Scuba credentials when he informed me that the pool was closed bcs the water was too murky. What exactly does that mean? Did little Jimmy take a crap in the water or are we talking straight up pollution? Bla bla too much rain and you can't see the bottom. Personally I was fine with that. It was so hot, there could have been turds floating on the surface and I would have jumped in. In the end he won and we carted our butts off to the kiddie pool where we could in fact see the bottom as it was 2 feet deep! There we were... Mom and Dad watching Sean and I splash around in the kiddie pool. It was official..I was 2 again.

As if I hadn't had enough drama for one day, I got back to camp only to find that we were shacked up next to a real live movie star. There he was in plain site, Borat! I wasn't aware that Borat drove a beat up 1979 Camry, lived in NJ and slept in a pup tent but these are the things you don't read about in the Enquirer. He was just as I imagined him. He was tall, thin, had dark hair and he talked to himself. The more I studied him I realized that he was a strange combination of Borat and the Green River Killer. Comforting. Luckily my tent was furthest from him. He had an odd way about him. He traveled light, he re-arranged a little alot and his body language screamed, "I'm in search of my next kill." Dad thought we should invite him for dinner but frankly that wasn't what I had in mind. Little did he know that I had already called his plates in to my brother the cop. As we ate our dinner I could feel him staring at me from behind. I decided that passing gas would be an appropriate way of letting him know that he would not in fact enjoy my company in any way shape or form. That made me think, who was he really eying as prey? It wasn't the men bcs they would put up a fight. That left my Mom, me, my two aunts and a 12 year old boy. Hmmm. I know for fact that if he did "take" my Mother he would return her promptly and she probably would be unaware that a crime had been committed. So I was thinking no on her. He didn't seem like a pedophile so that ruled out the boy. That left my 2 aunts who have at times been mistaken for lesbians. There's no real reason for that judgement other than that they both have short hair and are always together. It was like a 2 for 1. A BOGO. That was it...he was after the Bitties! (Oh that's the loving name I gave to those two)

Later that night, my Mother made the drive back home to shower and take her "face off." We had a great bathhouse at the camp but the scare of Borat and seeing her without makeup sealed the decision to sneak her off in the dark. I knew we would all sleep with one eye open that night. I looked over at Borats crib right before I went to bed. I wanted to see if he was out stalking or rubbing himself to sleep. He was in his tent and his flashlight was roaming all over inside. Yup. I knew it was the latter of the two. I wasn't even going to think about what or who he was using as motivation. I was just hoping that his extracurricular activities would knock him out for the evening. Much to my dismay, I would be up most of the night listening for movement, berating myself for not putting enough air in the mattress and peeing. I didn't dare venture off to the bathhouse to pee as I watch to much Dateline and I was living next to a serial killer. I just peed in the bushes like a lady.

Soon it was morning and I was awakened to the sound of my Mother speeding home to put her "face on." I looked at my watch and it was 5am. What the F?! Apparently the putting on and taking off of the face has to happen in "non-prime" hours. I climbed out of the tent and took a head count. It appeared we had all survived. Borat was out somewhere doing whatever it is that he does. We decided to be real campers and go into town and fetch our breakfast from the local diner. I will leave the story there as too much shock in one day is not healthy. Shock as in me seeing Borat 3 more times that day outside of the campsite! Was he following us? Was he plotting the kill? You know what I'm going to stay next...stay tuned...