Camp Philippe

When I was a youngster all the guys in my grade school class would go to camp together for a week in the summertime. Well, all the cool guys at least. And yes, I was somewhat cool back then. I don’t know exactly what has happened since then. I really don’t want to think about it lest you find me huddled in a corner in a pool of tears.

Camp was freaking awesome! They had 12 cabins for campers to sleep in. We’d always get our own cabin without any “outsiders.” All the other cabins had different groups of kids in them; two friends from Madison, three guys from here or there. We had the only cabin where everyone knew each other.

Of the 12 cabins, four were designated for guys. Just doing a little arithmetic here… that leaves eight cabins of girls. Doing a little more math… that’s a two to one ratio of girls to guys. And you wonder why we went back every year.

Now that I think about it, you wouldn’t think that many girls would like to go to camp. We had electricity and heat, but there were four showers (two guy, two girl) on the whole premises. Anyway, there were girls there, lots of them. And I fell in love with 64% of them every summer.

Each morning you’d find out which cabin you’d be paired up with for the daily activities. Each morning I’d wake up with a woody hoping for the cabin with all the hot girls.

We’d play a lot of field games, arts and crafts, bible study, sand volleyball, swim in the lake, and play on the ropes course. The volleyball games got fairly competitive as the years went on and we always had a solid team. It was always nice when swim time came around and the girls put on their bathing suits. (For the record, I’m semi-reliving this right now so I’m a 13 year old. I don’t think about 13 year old girls that way anymore. Just so this doesn’t sound sick or anything.) We put up with the bible study and the arts and crafts. The ropes course was usually pretty challenging.

One year we were climbing into this giant cargo net. It was suspended off the ground ten feet up and you needed people to help you get in it. I got my hands on the edge, then my chest over the edge, and finally I had my entire upper body in the net with my feet still hanging out. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I ended up doing a summersault into the bottom of the net, with each foot sliding into a different hole. There I was in front of all my friends and a group of girls I was trying to mack on with my feet sticking out the bottom of the net and a single piece of rope between my legs holding me up. Boys and girls, it was painful. I managed to get out myself but by the end of the night girls I didn’t even know were coming up to me and asking me about it. Not exactly the way you want to become popular at camp.

Another year I saw one of my friends crap in the swamp. Guess he couldn’t hold it.

Another year I broke the cabin door down because we thought it was cool when I hit the door and the cabin walls shook.

Another year we shaved half of a guy’s head. Just the left half.

Another year I wrote a girl a love letter which included words such as “I haven’t been” and “getting around” and “the bases lately.” Yeah, she never spoke to me again.

Another year I got dumped by a girl before the Friday night movie because I didn’t know what the fucking bases were.

Another year de-pantsing was the shit (and may have gotten me in trouble later in life).

Another year I got my penis stuck in someone’s clay art and had to break it in half to get it out. Sorry if that was yours.

Our last year there we were eighth graders. The guys who ran the camp told us how much they liked everyone and invited us to be counselors the following year. One friend and I signed up for two weeks straight the next summer.

The first week was pretty normal. We just had to watch over some little rug rats and make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

The campers left on Saturday and everyone went into town to do laundry. Being a freshman in high school I had never done my laundry before. One of the female counselors helped me out. She even put everything in the wash machine for me, even the underwear that had streaks in them. I shit you not.

That night my friend and I thought it would be cool to sleep in the same cabin with the female counselors. We were two 14 year olds, innocent enough, and really didn’t want to sleep in a cabin all by ourselves. So we went downstairs and had a good old fashioned co-ed slumber party.

The next day the camp ringleader found out and we were never invited back again.

Fast forward to 2007. The Renter and I met this girl on a quiet Tuesday at the bar. She goes to the Lutheran college down the street from the bar. She isn’t completely normal. The Renter calls her a Bible thumper. She has never had sex even though she gets really curious when the Renter starts talking about it. And she works at the same camp I went to every summer.

Last Saturday she introduced me to all her friends at the table. “Hey B to the…, I’d like you to meet my friends. This is blah blah, this is blah blah, this is blah blah.” Yeah, in one ear right out the other. Her friends looked less normal than she did. And then, “B to the… got kicked out of the camp I work at.” That’s ok, spread the word, it can only boost my bad boy reputation. (I don’t have a bad boy reputation, quite the opposite. Playing pool on Monday night some guy said that I cheated. I rolled my eyes at my 42 year old friend who loudly proclaimed that I’m the most honest person in the whole bar. Which also has its downfalls as they always make me keep score for the dice games, but oh well, nice to know that you’re trusted.)

Later that night the Bible thumper came up to me. “I’m sorry for telling everyone about the camp thing. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings or anything.” You know you’re getting old when you’re 30 and don’t give a shit about what happened 16 years ago and a 21 year old thinks it’s a big deal.