Roughing it

When I was a teenager in Kentucky, my Dad would save up all his days off and we would go to Florida for a couple of weeks in the summer. Sounds great, doesn’t it? Hahahhoohahaha! Let me give you the rundown: we stayed in a tent, a CANVAS tent, which no breath of air could penetrate. We traveled to Florida in a VW bus, in the heat and humidity, with no air conditioning and my 2 brat little brothers yelling ‘She’s touching me!’ every mile of the way. And we lived off the land (and bologna sandwiches) for the entire 2 weeks… ‘roughing it’, they called it.. I would return with a good tan, but I always lost weight and all my religion on the trip. AND this was before all the super freeways were completed, so we drove through Nashville, Atlanta and other quaint little spots, with Dad white-knuckled (and using the one and only curse word I ever heard from him)and Mom a screaming banshee by the time we got past the city limits. It was not what it was cracked up to be: YOU try spending 2 weeks, walking around with your gut sucked in 24/7, trying to look like a beach babe with your Mother following you around collecting seashells, using their Latin names, cause she is smart like that. I needed a vacation when my vacation was over – and GET THIS – my Rat-Fink cousin, M, would steal my boyfriend every vacation! I would have a boyfriend when I left, and SHE would have the boyfriend when I got back! This was before cell phones, so I would be blissfully ignorant until I returned – and by then, she had worked her abundant feminine charms on ole’ Buford and I was #$!@ outta luck! But M & her womanly ways is fodder for another story… Anyhoo, after our first trip through Atlanta, Mom decided she needed some ‘relaxation aid’ to get her through that ordeal again. So, as we neared the Big City Limits, she confidently popped 2 COMPOSE tablets, thinking she could stay relaxed and calm while Dad dodged traffic like it was incoming shrapnel. In just a few minutes, she began to yawn and rub her eyes, and before you know it, Mom was out like a light. She slept through Nashville, and then down through the top corner of Alabama, straight through Georgia… when we made a pit stop, she slept. When we stopped for gas, she slept. When we pulled into the camp ground at Flagler Beach, Florida, she was still sawing logs like a lumberjack! My Dad set up the Canvas Fortress, and then we helped him drag Mom inside, out of the sun. I was put in charge of the bologna sandwich supplies & Dad had to keep an eye on the 2 BBs. (Brat Brothers). Mom finally woke up 2 days later, cranky as heck and dying for a bologna sandwich… which we just happened to have in the cooler. ‘What happened?’ she asked, through the fog that had settled over her brain. ‘You took those (insert the only curse word here) sleeping pills, that’s what happened, and these (insert said bad word) kids have been driving me nuts!’ Dad growled. I must add the One and Only Curse Word that my Dad ever used starts with a ‘D’, so you don’t have to censor this too much. Soon Mom regained her sea legs, Dad was freed of his babysitting duties, and I was once again cruising the white sands, looking tanned and lithe.. With my Mom right behind me.. “Oh, look – a Turritella Gastropod!’
Now my idea of roughing it is ‘no cable’.