“Gee, camping's fun... First night last night. Air bed has more leaks than the Trump Administration, so it's more of a ground cover now. I can't feel my right hip because of the numbness from sleeping on a tree root underneath said "pristine camping site".
Wandered off for a shower this morning after 47 minutes of sleep (I found out the sun comes up about 5.15am, as do 3500 other idiots who are into camping) so allow me for the next five minutes to let you into that experience....
Took Friday's Courier Mail with me and thought I'd go to the crapper first since the snags I cooked to a crisp last night (due to no light to cook with) bound me up tighter than the Gold Coast on Schoolies lockdown. Bad move. I got to cubicle #3 of about ten altogether - I say 'about' because the undeniable stench of 'caravan park arse' overpowering the entire toilet block started the brain to uncontrollably shut down all calculation functions other than breathing in the toxic fog to simply survive.
As I sat there contemplating my air conditioned, sweetly smelling home 80km back up the road, the guy in the cubicle next to me is hacking up a lung. This was then followed by a 9 octave, 6 second fart which I can only describe as akin to a whale carcass exploding. North Korea has nothing on this assault capability. I managed to stammer the word "Christ!" at the outburst, which was promptly returned with a neighbourly "Get f**ked" from the offending cubicle.
My own relief came shortly afterwards with the very real threat that I may actually pass out on my own private throne if I didn't get fresh air fairly soon, and this was the exact moment when I discovered there was no toilet paper in the roll holder. Panic completely set in, as did the fight or flight instinct. Thinking of myself as a fairly amiable type and mustering up as much genuine mateship for my new found friend in the cubicle next door as I could, I said to him "Mate, I'm out of paper, can you throw me a roll over the top?" This is when I experienced first hand just what a great bond the camping community has, when he replied, "F**k off, enjoy your day." Brings a tear to my eye. Bastard. I'd like to skip the next 4 minutes of resourcefulness, but let's just say pages 3 through to 5 of the paper deserved better treatment. (I wasn't about to desicrate the sports section that I hadn't read.)
By this time I'm now more than ready for a shower, albeit it's still only 5.30am. You'll be pleased to know it was incredible - hot, strong, and seemingly like the Universe was finally looking after me on this whole forgettable experience. Oh, my friends, how wrong I was. Got a good lather up, not a vile smell anywhere, and things are going great.... until the f**king hot water turned off under a 5 minute timer with auto re-set after another 5 minutes.
So now I'm naked in a park shower, I can't see a thing because of the soap in my eyes that I now can't wash out; I'm freezing my blocks off, my ass has this unpleasant stinging sensation where I've introduced it to world politics on Page 3 of the newspaper; and I'm starting to get a vague appreciation of what life in prison might be like.
I've reached for the towel on the door hook like a soaped up, sodomised version of Stevie Wonder, only to find it has dropped onto the wet floor. Yep, God has seen fit to let it drop onto the floor and start soaking up shower water and tinea from a thousand other feral sods who were in there before me. By now I'm pretty well numb to everything camping life can throw at me, and so drying myself off with it seems almost second nature.
So..... I'm walking back to the tent which has been left a little like Camp Mogadishu after a bit of a light breeze, I'm smelling like a leprechauns armpit, my jock itch is now into overdrive with Courier Mail printers ink, and I'm wondering when camping is supposed to get fun.
At least the coffee is hot.
