The Theory of Camping (Part 3)
After three hours we arrived at Zion National Park near 8:00 p.m. I ignored the ground and air attacks from the bugs, but when it was stated that campfires are prohibited I got back in the truck and told Chad we were going home.
“Crystal, get out.”
“ No way.”
“We’re not going home. We just drove three hours to get here.”
I had one condition of going camping, and that was I’d only go if we could make smores.
“I made my requirement very clear. And no campfire means no marshmallows and no marshmallows means no smores.”
You think I’m joking, but I’m not. I have a strict diet during the week so the only time I allow myself to eat whatever I want is Friday evening through Sunday night. It makes my weekends pretty exciting. I liken it to inventing a holiday you didn’t celebrate previously in your life. (Maybe I should deprive myself of more things for a while.)
“Fine. Stay in there.”
Dramatics aside, it was obvious I wasn’t getting anywhere. Truth be told, I didn’t care. I just felt like pouting. A few days prior, things started going horribly awry; little did I know this was just a warm-up for what was in store. It all started when I attempted to roll down the driver-side window in my car. To my dismay, it went down -- in quick, slippery movements until it was fully engulfed by my door panel with no hope of return. An auto body shop wanted to charge $500 to fix my power window motor and, after spending an eternity in a junk yard looking for a Dodge Durango that ended up being the wrong year, I decided I was just going to order it new. Did you know wrecking yards charge for admission? I’m not kidding. Girls are free, guys are a dollar. Like a nightclub. “Club Pick-a-Part”. Haha. I almost died laughing because I thought the overalled guy was joking when he tried to charge my roommate a dollar. Particularly because whenever I’m being a jackass and someone wants something from me I tell them it will cost a dollar. It wasn’t until I saw the magic-marker sign that said “SIGN IN -- $1.00” that I realized this guy was for real.
So my part is on order for the next five days, my car is sitting exposed in the driveway all weekend with no window, and I’m trapped at a pseudo campsite with no typical camping perks. Pretty freaking delightful.
Precocious entrepreneur, workaholic and a rabid perfectionist Crystal Starlight knows a thing or two about getting ahead at a young age. Email her at [email protected]