So coolApril 12, 2012
I really wasn’t, ever, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Being cool eluded me, I couldn’t get a handle on the rules of the game. But I was going to be cool for my first whole weekend of Girl Scout camping, yes indeedy.
I planned it well. I knew how to prepare all of the proper fare: ants on a log, bug juice, s’mores, toad in a hole, and many other proven camping recipes. I knew to soap the bottom of the frying pan from my mess kit so that the black soot from the fire would easily rinse away prior to drying and storing the kit. I understood the reasons for and was religious about the buddy system. I was the best pyro… err, campfire builder around and knew dozens and dozens of around-the-campfire songs. I was ready, steady Frederica, all set to be cool in front of the girls who never saw me as cool and called me Goodie Two Shoes.
The first night went well. After a giggle-fest in the tent we snuck out under the watchful eye of our Girl Scout leader who pretended to be asleep. We didn’t go far. It was dark out in the woods. There were strange creatures and noises out there. The sneaking out had been accomplished so there was no reason to stay out. We went back and giggle-fested ourselves to sleep.
The next morning was all things bright and beautiful. Breakfast was behind us and we were straightening up our tent. Things were going so well that I sat down, crossed my legs and leaned back against the tent wall to relax and revel in my new coolness. I then fell out of the tent (geez, tents don’t have solid walls, do they?), off of the platform on which it was pitched (I had forgotten about that three-foot-high platform), rolled down a hill behind the tent and directly into a muddy stream below.