If you ever went to sleepaway camp, you’ll recall that posse of old washed-up hags who would show up every summer acting like they still owned the place and reliving their glory days.
They’d take up valuable space in the dining room, waltz into your bunk looking for that corner where they signed their names back in 1792, request songs at campfire that nobody knows the words to anymore, and mooch on your favorite gun at marksmanship (okay that one’s probably just a CF thing).
And in the nine years since I last rocked rolled-up hunter green soffee shorts and a not-effing-around muffin top, I too have become one of those hoes. Every summer, my camp friends and I make the pilgrimmage up north to remind Mainers from Portland to Poland that we are still that awesome/ horrible/ shameless.
Does anyone know who we are anymore? Negatron. Does anyone care? Nope nopity nope. Does that stop us? You bet it doesn’t.
If you are one of those former campers with too much dignity to subject yourself to the confused stares of 200 complete strangers and the feeling that you wore out your welcome close to a decade ago, you’re seriously missing out.
In my next installment of this week’s Mainly I do like Maine series, I’ll divulge the secrets to a debaucherous summer weekend in Portland, Maine, including: complaining your way to two free nights in a presidential suite at the Holiday Inn by the Bay, procuring free Domino’s pizza as retribution for non-existent table service at Maine’s hottest nightclub – Oasis, and what to do when your motorboat breaks down in the middle of Sebago Lake.
After all, it’s always fun to get out of camp… even if it’s just for an hour.