I have friends who grew up camping. Their garages look like mini-REI's with outdoor equipment tucked in every available nook and cranny. My family, on the other hand, went camping maybe twice in my growing up years. We don't use the words happy and campers in conjunction with each other. We don't rough it.
So my mom approached the topic of staying in a camper quite delicately with my sister:
So I got us Ambien for the trip.
-Ambien?
Yeah for when we stay in Prinsburg.
-We're staying in Prinsburg?
Yeah, in the camper!
-In a camper?!? (the tone of these words was not delight)
Getting ready for bed that night, my mom asked if we'd taken our "vitamins" aka sleeping pills. My sister opted to sleep in the car fearing the infestation of gnats. My dad slept in the basement of an unfinished house, which though pleasant enough during the day, seemed like the setting for a classic horror film at night. And 4 of us crammed into a pint-size camper. Did I mention that we range in height from 5'7 to 6'3?
The mattress pads were comparable in comfort level to sleeping on brick slabs. But that "vitamin" did the trick. I slept like a log, but not before visions of Hurley (from Lost) swimming underwater went through my head. Um Mom? What exactly was in those pills you gave us?
