Roughing It

A couple weeks ago we went camping with our little church group.

We packed up the car and drove 20 miles to the wilderness of the county regional park. I didn't sleep very well the first night because of the police helicopters hovering all night. Nothing like the persistent hum of a rotor blade to make you feel like you've gotten away from it all.

I'm not much of a camper. Tents, sleeping bags, and air mattresses are a poor substitute for my house. There's a reason why shelter is low on the hierarchy of needs.

And I don't really like dirt.

It was much worse when I was a kid. I didn't even like to get dirty. There may have been a few "freakouts" because I had dirt on my hands. As I got older I didn't mind getting dirty if I could clean up afterward.

The problem with camping is that you don't have access to a shower. Therefore you generally end up going to bed dirty.

Not cool.

I like camping where there are showers. Fortunately, our campsite had a shower.

There was one problem: I didn't have a towel.

I paid my dollar for 4 shower tokens. I had six minutes to shower off two days worth of dirt. As I stood under the fine mist, I prayed the soap would rinse off before the water stopped. When the water stopped, I stood in the shower for a few minutes trying to drip dry.

It didn't work very well. Then I remembered there were hand dryers in the bathroom. I put on my shorts and turned on the hand dryer, trying to direct the flow of warm air to my wettest parts.

Do you know what's creepier than a guy drying himself with the hand dryer after a shower?

Nothing.