|Fuck you, water.
||[Jul. 8th, 2007|08:32 pm]
|||||tired, sick, and weak||]|
|||||Guyz Nite - Die Hard||]|
I never want to go camping again. Ever.
We had a water polo tournament in Murrieta Valley this weekend, and our coach had the brilliant idea of having us stay at a campground overnight for "team bonding" purposes. A campground that was next to a dairy farm, air thick with flies during the near-hundred-degree daytimes. So, we pitched two tents on the grass across from the trailer that Ms. Simons stayed in, a big one where we all slept and a small one that just ... stood there 'cause no one wanted to sleep in it alone. We left the top uncovered, leaving just the mesh so that we would stay cool and also allowing us to stare up and the stars and stuff.
After all of has had fallen asleep, the sprinklers suddenly decided to ATTACK US AT 1 A.M. We were caught unawares, confused, and disoriented. One guy even thought it was rain for the first few minutes. But we figured that the worst was over, and we might as well try to get back to sleep.
At around 2 a.m., the sprinklers came back AGAIN, effectively drenching everyone in the tent. Still, we stuck it out and stayed in the tent. At this point, my sleeping bag was already pretty wet, so I ended up trying to share one blanket with two other guys over this tiny patch of dry tarp.
3 a.m. "FUUUUCK." That is what came out of my mouth as I heard the sound of water hitting the sides of the tent, causing me to leap across the tent to seek the cover of my wet, but waterproof sleeping bag. Eventually, we admitted defeat and ended up sleeping in one of the cars. By morning, it was probably something like 90 degrees inside, with the windows completely steamed up and a locker-room smell filling the air.
And I would've remained perfectly dry if only I hadn't unzipped my mummy sleeping bag, allowing the water to find its way in through the side (itwasfreakinghotokay?). I am going to make some Alka-Seltzer Plus.