A friend recently asked me if I have a
tent he can borrow. I shuddered for a moment — horrifying memories flashing
through my mind — then I replied with a quivering voice, “Uhh, no. Our family
doesn’t camp.”
My wife and I actually tried camping a
few times when we were first married. However, after one particularly gruesome
experience over three decades ago, we vowed to spend every night for the rest
of our lives sleeping in well-constructed buildings. And if a well-constructed
building is not available, we will settle for a Motel 6. (Nothing personal,
Tom. I kind of like it that you “leave the light on” for us.)
There are, I admit, some positive
aspects to camping: the camaraderie, enjoying the great outdoors, barbequing,
and seeing nature up close and personal rather than through the windshield of a
car while cruising down the Interstate at 70 mph. The only downside to camping
is, well, the camping.
After an enjoyable day outdoors, when
the sun finally sets, instead of going inside a well-constructed building (or a
Motel 6) to get a good night’s sleep on a real mattress with clean sheets,
campers crawl into a nylon or canvas tent and lie on the lumpy ground inside a
musty sleeping bag. Even if the ground is smooth and level (which is rare), and
even if that little air mattress doesn’t spring a leak in the middle of the
night (rarer still), it is impossible to sleep well inside a tent.
In addition to a noticeable absence of
Sealy Posturepedic mattresses, there are three other minor reasons why you
can’t get a good night’s sleep while camping — plus one major reason.
First, the minor reasons: (1) No air
conditioning. Hey, I admit it, I’m a wimp. But once you get used to a
climate-controlled bedroom with crisp, dry air, a stuffy and sweaty tent just
doesn’t cut it.
(2) No bathrooms. This is not a matter
of wimpiness; it’s a matter of having a middle-aged bladder. It’s hard enough
at home to stumble out of bed at 3 a.m. and stagger down the hall, but in a
tent, you have to wiggle out of your sleeping bag, put on your shoes, figure
out how to unzip the tent flap, and then wander around in pitch darkness trying
to remember where that particular campsite’s communal latrines are located.
Unfortunately, long before you can find the latrines, you wet your pants. But
it doesn’t matter because of —
(3) Dampness. Let’s face it, the great
outdoors is a very wet place at 3 a.m. Everything is covered in dew — a major
reason mankind invented well-constructed buildings (or, when sturdy
construction materials were not available, Motel 6’s). Even if you avoid wetting
your pants during the night, by daybreak all your clothing, your sleeping bag,
your hair, and your will-to-live are very soggy.
This brings us to the MAJOR reason why
you can’t get a good night’s sleep while camping: insects. On that gruesome
night inside a tent many years ago, my wife and I made a horrifying discovery:
entomologists very easily could have named earwigs “nosewigs.”
I have no idea why those creepy little
buggers were so fascinated with my nasal passages, but suffice to say my wife
and I sat up the rest of that night in the tent hugging each other tightly,
whimpering, and counting down the seconds until sunrise. Not a very pleasant
experience.
If my friend finds a tent to borrow, instead
of sitting up all night whimpering about the insects, he can always drive back
to my house and sleep inside my well-constructed home. I’ll “leave the light
on” for him.
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