If You're Happy And You Know It

I am going on a camping trip.

I am not exactly sure how I got roped into this. I have long believed that hotels were invented to prevent the spread of camping. Specifically so camping does not touch my life. So no one has to cope with the devastating effects of camping.

Worse, I have to put on a happy happy joy joy face (turn my frown upside down!) because I am one of three chaperones on the Girl Scout camping trip with twelve eleven year olds all the way out in Camp Hari Kari. Kill me now.

My daughter actually volunteered me to to go. Mainly because she touts me as the expert. This is the same camp I attended as an eight-year-old Girl Scout myself (an astonishing number of years ago). Clearly I'd be an old hand at finding the latrine in the woods in the dark with a flashlight in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm.

To make matters worse, Camp Hari Kari is in a very remote location. Far far from cell towers, and liquor stores and spas of any kind. Is it poor form to take a flask on a camping trip with minors? Nevermind.

And making matters worse still, I am one of the drivers and will have four girls with me in my car. With all of their gum and lip gloss and shrillness. All singing 17,000 verses of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt at the tops of their lungs. And discussing Selena's breakup with the Biebs. Or Lindsay Lohan's latest escapades. Or some other matter of global importance.

Truthfully, I am curious about how things at Camp Hari Kari may have changed since I last dashed from the woods to my parents' car like a fugitive. Judging from my daughter's description of the tents and their accessibility by wild life, it is safe to say that they are the same.

But nonetheless, my duffel is packed, my sleeping bag rolled, my 47 outfits to replace the ones that get wet, all assembled and sitting along side my allergy medicine, my sunscreen, my bug spray, my epi-pen, my hand sanitizer, my bandaids and my emergency self contained toothbrushing assembly (camping with Invisalign should make the camp fire cooking ritual an extra special treat.)

I am prepared to go.

Prepared, but hardly ready.

If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands...