Camping No Picnic

It's that time of year.

Especially this year -- after a loooong pandemic lockdown -- many people are itching to get out to the Great Outdoors and do some camping!

But not me.

Oh, when I was a kid I loved what we called "camping out." It was so simple: I just went out to the backyard, threw down an old blanket on an ant hill, and slept soundly under zillions of stars.

Nothing really bothered me in those days. Not hungry mosquitoes or any of the other Summer bugs flying and crawling around my Iowa version of Mayberry.

But today it's a different story.

Now, I can't ever get comfortable sleeping on the ground, no matter how many air mattresses and pillows and blankets I bring. Guess my joints aren't as rubbery as they once were.

And I always get cold -- really cold -- sometime before the morning sun finally comes slowly creeping back over the eastern horizon.

And sleeping in a tent is no real advantage. Being a light sleeper, I seem to hear every strange noise just outside the oh-so-thin material, imagining a bear or serial killer about to pounce.

So, by the next morning, I'm a wreck.

Or the flip side of pitching a lonely tent in a bear-infested wilderness is the multi-unit campground, where there's always at least one group that thinks you're enjoying their loud, obnoxious conversations and/or God-awful music.

Or -- more likely -- just don't care.

So do I get up and confront these bozos about the noise? In this day and age, when everyone has a gun except me?

Naaahhh...

Then there's the "glampers,' who arrive in their 55-foot drivable monstrosities complete with satellite dish, microwave, cozy bathroom and warm, fluffy bed.

Now that's what I call "roughing it."

I do understand that -- for some folks -- camping in a huge, luxurious, enclosed metal conveyance is the only way they can enjoy The Great Outdoors because of physical limitations.

Maybe that would work for me, too -- if I had the money.

Guess I'm just jealous...

My wife loves camping, and I try to go along with it.

But it's not easy.

Even in a high-dollar sleeping bag, I still get cold. And I feel like a mummy in those too-tight bags and can never get truly comfortable.

So we've come to an understanding on camping, my wife and me.

She sleeps soundly and happily in the tent, while I put down the backseats of the car and make a "bed," where I remain fairly warm through the night and can no longer hear any of the strange noises that once woke me every 10 minutes.

Now that's what I call camping!