Camping is a weird, yet enjoyable combination of work and relaxation. Unless, of course, you're the only girl camping with multiple boys, which in that case, it's just pain confusing. I knew just from the "planning meeting" that I was in for something that I had better get emotionally prepared for, and fast. The three hour talk of visiting every single way side and state park on our way to several campsites and even Canada, left me considerably overwhelmed and craving chocolate. Only after our first couple state park visits did I realize that these boys didn't actually intend on 'visiting' the parks or "Ooh" and "Ahh" at natural marvels. No. All they wanted to do was hike for miles, finally reach our destination after who knows how many hours, and take a quick picture only to instantly turn around and head back to the over-flowing van that was about to die. I'm pretty sure they spent more time looking through the screens on their digital cameras than the actual physical object of interest. Jamie has a term for this man-ish act. It's called: killing. According to the handsome eagle scout, boys have a need to kill things. By 'kill' I don't mean just hunting, and shooting or stomping on some poor animal. The boy translation for 'kill' is to defeat, conquer, finish, or even dominate. It has the same motivation as hunting and such, but tends to be less messy: find, kill, and bring back proof. (the proof in this case would be the picture, a stamp in a little state park passport thing, or a massive rock). A few times we never even left the van. We just sat in our seats as some ranger stamped proof into Brian's "passport". While these males carried on their natural behaviors, I was dubbed as an 'in the moment' type of person by the menfolk. I like to enjoy things that I've worked for. Maybe sit or explore my surroundings for more than 12 seconds with the chance of resting my legs. On rare occasions, I might even take a small snack and eat it once I've arrived to my destination.
A few times during our camping trip, I decided to test their tolerance for being 'in the moment' at a state park. Completely in the name of science and curiosity, I would try and wait them out. I was the only girl. They would have to be nice, or at least polite, but how long would it take for one of them to explode? Not very long. sure enough, 5 minutes after our arrival, they grew antsy, and unreasonably cranky. I took a note of their response, and refrained from trying the experiment again, after hearing a few choice words.
Many things happened on this camping trip that enabled me to learn about the male species in a less than enjoyable way. For example: boys don't care that they're 2 miles away from anyone and even the van, and there's only a stump with a hole in it to use in case of a full bladder. It didn't even faze them that the hole was almost full, and any space that was left was infested with spider webs, egg sacs and black widows the size of my fist, not to mention the lack of four walls and a roof. Granted, it left the user feeling closer to nature, but it lacked the welcoming flare.
I also learned that if anything does not go according to their unreasonably detailed plans, boys with automatically fire up their defense mechanism. This includes a throwing whatever is available to throw, while spewing a few words in interesting variations depending, of course, on the severity of the situation. For instance, in case of needing a tow truck or stitches, I learned first hand that the language is particularly colorful, and bigger things are thrown. Being lost or not getting that fish that kept biting brings lesser amounts of words and smaller loads of hurling object. In a more seldom situation, the boy will not say or throw anything at all, but instead he will start to sweat, widen his eyes and start making spears or smacking trees with the butt of an ax. These are usually brought on by timber wolves or bears that like to tinker with their gadgets.
At the end of the week, as I washed the bear slobber and claw prints off the van window, I pondered all the invaluable things I had learned from this experience. I am thankful that I was able to take part in this learning experience, and that I am now immune to multiple smells, conversations and noises. Next time, however, I will make sure another girl will come with me.
