Homeward Bound

The next morning we are up with the sun. Again.

And in moments we are off to the Mess Hall to sing grace and eat a quick breakfast before heading out.

But first there would be an audience participation ceremony of some kind. There are no churches or chapels or other places of worship here at Camp Hari Kari - but the Girl Scouts will not miss the spirituality boat. Our friends have prepared a little gathering around our nation's flag and we've been warned that this ceremony is expected to be solemn and reverent.

Not exactly our troop's strength.

In fact about half of us have already broken ranks and are at the pond hoping to find my daughter's fossil (she'd left it when she'd abruptly departed on that ill-fated trip to the latrine). Another glimpse of Fabio would be icing on the cake.

We are ready to start processing to the flag pole in silence and much of our troop is MIA. We gestrue that it is okay to start without them, but oh no. The leaders will wait for our girls to return.

What? Can't we just write a haiku?

Nope. They'll wait. We'll all wait.

And like that Debbie and I are running with coffee across the sacred blue flowers and down the hill to the scummy little pond where our girls are about to roll up their pant legs.

We skulk back to get in a line full of impatient and evidently more serious campers.

Aside from having absolutely no idea how to sing half the songs, I find a way to actually enjoy the ceremony. Particularly since it provides closure. We join hands in a circle at last, tell everyone what we enjoyed best, pose for a picture and head to our cars.

I am following Carmella again. It is a gorgeous mountain morning, made especially beautiful by the fact that we are headed DOWN the mountain.

But things look different. I don't think we came this way.

I get a call from Deb. They think we've missed a turn and are turning around. What does Betty say?

Betty's been bound and gagged since Friday so Betty's not saying much. I look at the paper with the overly long verbally incontinent directions.

"Yes, we went north on this route to get here," I say. "So I'd guess we'd go south to return. Just follow the directions in reverse."

Silence.

They threw away the directions.

What?

I am frantically plugging in Betty and my daughter is typing in our address while Betty searches the planet for our coordinates. I am wondering where I can pull over and hand off my copy of the directions.

They say they think they can wing it, but ask that I call them if I see them going where Betty would not advise.

But before I could answer and suggest that Betty and I take the lead, they are off like a shot. And I am hoping that we are all truly homeward bound, for the sake of the children slumbering in my backseat trusting that all is safe in my hands.

There is a reason Lars called me Wrongway. I am doomed.