Camping
Driving from Connecticut to New York on the 84, there is a striking difference in scenery once you cross the state border. Okay, maybe not that striking, but there are differences, where there should be none. All you do is cross an imaginary border, and all of a sudden the houses around the road disappear – sometimes replaced by grazing farm animals. The cows ate the houses, and nobody noticed. Though I’ve never been here before, it feels nice to be back in upstate New York. It feels like college.Late on the third afternoon of camping, a family moved in on the neighboring site: a tall skinny and dorky looking father, a girl of maybe 7 or 8, and a younger boy (very well-behaved kids). In the absence of better entertainment, we started almost right away to speculate about this family’s story. Maybe the parents are divorced, or alternatively, the man, a creepy stalker in disguise, kidnapped the children and took them to the best hiding place one can find on July 3: a campground. We came up with an intricate Lolita-inspired plot, but it is now hard to remember how the boy fit into it. Perhaps mommy had a headache, and guided simultaneously by the lack of any prospect of intercourse and the gut feeling that the rest of the family needs to evacuate, dad took the children to an awkward camping trip. On the other hand, there were probably aliens involved.
On the next morning, the family was gone by the time we got up.
posted by Dora @ 12:14 PM
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