Special Edition - In Which The Worst Camping Trip Ever Ends Up... Not So Bad?

(Click the links for pictures.)

7:00. I am awake. Not by choice, I assure you. The most delightful noise ever in the mornings, I would have to say, is my mother's lovely bitching tone as she complains about the weather. Very loudly. While slamming doors.

We are going camping. Destination - Hickville. It's a zoo out there. I'm warning you now. Cows running rampid on the loose, children riding horses bareback. The scent alone is enough to throw one over the edge. I shall have to go prepared.

After dousing myself in bugspray and sunscreen, layering my clothes sufficiently and packing my iPod, discman, digital camera, cellphone and gameboy, I think I am ready for this.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

7:35. I go outside. Mom and The B-Word are preparing the car. We have packed enough food to feed a small army and most of a third world country. We have packed enough blankets and pillows to cover the prairies. My mother also likes to go prepared as well.

8:21. We are on the road. It is too early in the first place for my nocturnal brain to be awake, so I dose in the back seat. The small city of Saint John slips away outside my window as I drown out Lissa singing The Song That Never Ends, and The B-Word and Mom arguing about turn-offs.

9:30. We arrive somewhere with a McDonalds. The B-Word and Liss go inside to order our monstrous breakfast while Mom steps outside to take a smoke. I don't know why she constantly does this. She makes such a big deal about quitting and saving the money to put towards better things, then in a month she is back on the smoking wagon again, bitching at me whenever I point out how hypocritical she is.

Anyhow, my breakfast is smiling at me.

11:30. We arrive in a small town outside the Moncton limits. There are cows for cripe's sake. Cows! In people's yards! And barns!

12:14. We have taken a wrong turn. We are NOT on the road to Miramichi. We are NOT on the road to Saint John. We are on the road to Fredericton, which happens to be in the complete opposite direction! Go Figure!

We must pull over on the highway and somehow maneuver ourselves into a 180 turn! The B-Word seems to think it is Mom's fault, and Mom is blaming it all on The B-Word, so I'm just going to turn my discman back on and tune them all out.

1:13. Somehow, beyond all knowledge, we end up on the dirt road leading us to the house where we will be staying. That's right, we're staying at someone's house. Why then, do you ask, did we pack so much EFFING FOOD?! Because, my parent's idea of 'roughing it' is camping out in someone's backyard and using their bbq to cook dinner on.

Anyhow.

We Have arrived. I can tell it will be a blast from the minute I lay my eyes on their choice of transportation. And their 'residence', which is by the way, over 200 years old, built brick-by-brick by some of New Brunswick's first settlers. (Like we care!)

Mom steps out of the car for another cancer-stick while I explore my surroundings. There is like a plain that sort of just ends abruptly into beach area in their backyard. It's pretty in an Anne-Of-Green-Gables sort of way I suppose.

People start coming out of the house. There is a mom, (Don't remember her name.) a new baby, (Austin, I think...) a dad, (Grant.) a girl my age, (Natasha.) a four-year-old, (Bailey.) and a ten year old son. (Don't remember.)

They look hostile. I think I will go for a walk on the beach...

2:00. I did not know the beach was made of clay. But it is a bit too late now, eh?

I am covered, and when I say covered, I don't mean no skimpiness, I mean I have never been so filthy before in my life. It is somehow on my face. It is somehow on my skirt. It is somehow in my hair! And I am pissed.

I have to walk all the way back to the ancient house and ask for help to get cleaned up. Little did I know, half the neighborhood has arrived by now. (It was the Father's birthday, huge celebration, food and fireworks, yada yada yada...)

I find The B-Word, and he says for me to stand out in the yard and he will spray me down with the hose. I can't even describe the humiliation. There were like ten kids my age there, all staring and gawking at me. That's not even the worst part. THIS is the worst part. That is the container that is holding the water for the hose. It is from the ditch, and it gets pumped up the hill and through the hose to be sprayed all over me. I can just imagine the mass-production of mosquitoes happening in there.

After I am sprayed down, humiliated, drenched, ridiculed, I must go back to the car, get a change of clothes, and make myself look presentable. I don't care if this is 'the country' and people wear over-alls and plumber-pants, I am going to look good and clean the whole damn time!

2:10. Well, so much for that. While I was back in the car, putting my 'soiled' clothes into a shopping bag, there was a monstrous crash of lightning from behind me. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the damn dog jumps into the car yelping and going on, completely SHOWERING me in mud and water, rolling all over my clothes and scratching at me like a frigging wild animal. I scream, and fight him off. A brief wrestling match ensues, and the final result is me, dirty again.

And that's not even the worse part. The worst part was having to walk back into that house again to go change my clothes and having to go right by the little 'posse' of teenagers who are smirking at me and giggling behind my back. "Get a loud of Paris Hilton," murmurs one of the minorly attractive male-pigs.

How. Dare. They. Dirty frigging hillbillies!!!!

By now, I have had it. My clothes are all dirty! I brought a lot, I know, but it hasn't even been two hours and I'm done to my last change of clothes. I am pissed, and I let The B-Word have an earfull. He deserves it though, this trip was his idea and now my new nikes are slathered in mud sauce!

3:00. I think he may have taken pity on me. Perhaps it was the tears... Hmm...

Either way, we are going to 'town' to buy me new shoes. Workboots are not my thing, but The B-Word insists that there is a Payless Shoes, so we will see.

'Downtown' Miramichi is pretty effing pathetic. There is a movie theatre... But even still, Studio5 ?? Who has ever heard of something like that?!

3:30. We're at some sort of water park. Who knows, who cares?! It's not the f'ing country anymore, and there are actual people there too.

We go to a small strip-mall and I pick out some new shoes. (Pink ballet flats, wahoo!) While I do this, The B-Word is next door in some shop and Mom and Liss are in Zeller's looking for a gift for the new baby.

When I come out of the shoe store, I realize that the 'store-next-door" is People's Jewelers. I give The B-Word a dirty look.

"What are you doing in there? Btter not be buying any more jewelry unless you're buying for me, you know mom doesn't want anymore... Remember what happened last time?"

(He bought mom like 500$ diamond earrings and she told him to take them back and put the money on the house. Mom is not a materialistic person, and his whole 'shower-her-with-gifts' thing is pissing me off.)

"I'm just looking..."

8:00. After a not-so bad day in 'town', we drive back out to the house where we are staying at. There are even more people there now then before, if that's even possible, and a small 'jam session' has started in the kitchen. The snobby country kids are in the 'den' watching movies. I hope the roof falls in on them.

8:30. The B-Word is bbq'ing our dinner on the porch. I go out to see if my hotdogs are ready, when I see THIS monstrosity on my mother's finger!!!!!! That little lying bastard went into People's and bought her a 'promise ring'. If it was an engagement ring, I would have barfed right there, but I surpressed the urge.

I shot him a dirty look and walked away. Mom followed after me to the car, (my new adopted headquarters...) and tried to brush it off as if it were nothing.

"Want to go driving?"

"Why would I want to go driving? What are we gonna do? Drive around and counts cows?!"

"No, I thought maybe you would like to drive."

Sweet mother of god, the day has come!

9:00. After a blissful hour of cruising around the dirt roads, (alright, more like lead-footing it. Mom almost killed me for that one!) we come back to the 'house-barn'. The party is reaaallly kicking now.

I am fed up. Just because I can't walk without falling or get bit by a bug without crying or go outside without sunscreen, does NOT make me Paris Hilton, or snobby, or a 'city girl'. For cripe's sake people, I'm from Saint John!

Screw them all! Screw their parties and fireworks and hay! I'm going to my car and sitting there blasting music!

I recline the chair, turn up the iPod, start text-messaging people while wrapped in blankets and then I hear it. A loud tap from the passenger window. I jump like eight feet before pulling off the headphones and rolling down the window. It is minorly attractive pig, who just got a bit better looking...

"Hey Paris, why don't you turn off the gadgets and come watch the fireworks with us?"

"Really?" I untangle myself from the blankets and stumble out the door.

"Yea, they're like the best part."

We get almost down to the beach where everyone is standing when I remember my camera! I tear back up the hill and come running back. They can kiss my ass, I'm here to document everything.

10:10. The fireworks were actually not that bad. There was this right cool one at the end that hissed and looked like a snake. When everyone turned to go back inside, Natasha and her friend asked if I wanted to go to the den to watch movies with them all.

They weren't exactly like my friends, but they were nice just the same. And still just as funny and hyper when they got going. We watched 10 Things I Hate About You and Dickie Roberts, or whatever the hell it's called.

About halfway through the first movie, I scream and jump up into the air.

"What is it?!" Now-Averagely cute guy asks.

"Spider, spider spider, Oh my go-oo-ooooddd! Kill it Kill it Kill it!!!" (I'm still not quite sure how I managed the picture through all the hysterics... )

12:30. The movies are done, and everyone is off to bed. We are camping outside on their front lawn in the four man tent, and the bugs are out to bug me.

After an eternity of moving around and trying to get comfortable, I finally manage to find an un-lumpy part of the mattress and settle down for a good night's sleep. That IS until I heard this...

"SNORE." (Or however you would spell the 'snore' sound...)

Then....

"Mmmm.... Noo0oooo0oo... I don't want to go on the boat...." (My idiot sleep-talking sister.)

I jump up, "Shut the hell up!"

1:00. They have not shut up. I am dying, literally dying here. Why can't they just sleep like normal people! Now The B-Word is started to make purring noises while Liss keeps grinding her teeth. I'm going to be grinding her head into the pillow any minute now!

"Kate, are you awake?" The B-Word asks into the darkness. Uh, obviously dipshit!

"Yea..."

"I just wanted to say thanks for making today really great."

"Your welcome, now shut up and let me sleep, because that would be reaaaalllly great!"

I'm a bitch.

11:00. We are packing up the car to go home. I am covered in bug bites, horse fly bites, dog bites, frig you name it and I'm covered in it. It has been a very long night.

We sat goodbye to everyone. Natasha says I have to come back next summer and she'll break me into the 'country' more. She's a nice kid, a bit naive for me, but nice I suppose. I agree, but only because I fear if I don't I won't be able to leave...

I sleep most of the way home before deciding to milk it for all it's worth.

"Mom, I don't feel good, I think I got too much sun. Can we stop and get some ice cream? Or a popsicle? I really want a Koolaid popsicle."

4:00. We are coming into Saint John. I can admit, it wasn't all bad. I got to drive a car and got new shoes and met a kinda cute country boy and ate some good food. It wasn't that bad, but that doesn't mean I'd do it again.

Miramichi, No. Saint John, Yes.

I know it's small and stinky, but I appreciate it more now I guess.

And I was so glad as we drove into the little 'town' that I lived there and not frigging Hickville!

(For all photos, visit my album.)