h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Or not.

Tomorrow, leaving on a cross country train trip to Camp Towanda.
ccttct...

Anyway, staying there, working, getting paid to go to summer camp.
I'm happy.
And Yael joins me at the end, so that'll be good.

Just because. It's not like I'll reply or anything, what with being at camp. But just thought you'd like to know.

Well good luck at camp. Remember to writ your folks and tell them how much you enjoy it...unless you don't then you'll have to lie as the camp councilers secretly read all the mail and will torture you in many subtle and exceedingly evil ways if you tell your folks how evil they really are

I know nothing at all about camps, so I can only wish you an "interesting" time.

>>It's not like I'll reply or anything, what with being at camp<<
Pft. You might not feel like replying, but you'll be online to talk to me, so you will at least _see_ the replies made here.

Anyway, have a great time. It's a nice place. Lots of good people. Lots of not-so-great ones, too, but the good ones are worth it.



And TB, either I'm not getting you completely, or you're somewhat confused. He is going to be one of the counsellors. So if there's any censoreship and torture, he won't be on the receiving end of it.
Though as for torturing the campers, I doubt if it could happen. A private Jewish camp full of rich little American kids? Most chances are at least one of their parents is a lawyer...

You're right. Here I am.


Thanks guys, for the, umm... well-wishes, I guess.
Should be an interesting summer, to say the least.

I'll be there soon.

Good.

Yeal I kinda figured he was going to be one of the counsellors, it was a joke, implying that he'd be torturing the poor kids sent there, and it's more psychological tortur, making the kids do outdoorsey things and such. Also that Lawer comment is racial stereotyping

It's not racial stereotyping.
It's pure statistics.

In any given room of people, chances are, there's someone related to a laywer.

Now if she had said about 95% of the parents were laywers, still probably true, yet slightly more edgy.


And I wouldn't make the kids to anything. You've read Lord of the Flies.
They'll do it to themselves. I'll just give them fresh ideas, from time to time....

Sorry for musunderstanding.

But the lawyer thing is true. I worked there. I've seen 'em.

(make that 'misunderstanding'... )

Well I'm in the middle of watching Meet The Fockers and as soon as they introduced Barbra Streisand's character I kept thinking that she was like a slightly exagerated version of my aunt with regular bouts of "Yep, Beryl would do/say that"

*****Historical Note*****
This log was found and reconstructed, with as much adherence to the original as could be afforded. Dates and times were not included; merely short paragraphs that have been arranged into as coherent a pattern as was possible. Mistakes are the sole responsibility of the reader, as the writer and transcriber have long ago washed their hands of this mess.
***************************

The expedition left Seattle as planned, and headed north along the coastline toward Everett and Edmonds. We passed several nudists who hadn't taken the train into account when they were looking for private spots. Or, perhaps more frightening, perhaps they had.

All the other locals seem compelled top wave as the train passes. They live near train tracks, and probably see several each day, as they have for however long they've lived there. And yet they wave, smiling, like the circus is coming to town. I feel like how the Pope must.

I can't yet see why anyone would choose to live anywhere but Washington.

Passing over the Cascades, or rather through, the landscape became more flat and arid, approaching Spokane, and the Idaho border.

Having fallen asleep around this time, I fortunately missed all of Idaho, and woke around Libby Montana.

The land on the Western side was again mountainous and evergreened [? Probable translatinal misstep] but slowly shifted into grassland. My fear of wide open spaces is matched only by boredom and listlessness when confronted with closed ones.

The seats are uncomfortable, at best, and only work when sitting regularly in them. As soon as you assume a sleeping posture, or indeed, a different one at all, you are poked and prodded by all the built-in anti-sleep devices these fell instruments contain. Still, I was able to sleep through Idaho.

The Diner car is in front of mine, which is nice, except the price of food there is prohibitive. There is a lounge with a snack bar two cars back, but in this case, quality is the limiting factor. I've heard the complaints...

I didn't pack close to enough food and my supplies are dwindling. I'm not drinking enough.

I fear if the situation does not change soon, I will be forced to undertake drastic measures. Luckily, I'm seated across from the fat guy, who promises to be an ample food source for my entire car.

The situation is indeed grim. I was woken up at 5 AM, either by the fatman snoring, or the sound of my own stomach growling. Possibly both, for both cases certainly exist. Outside was a depressing rainy wasteland, which makes me think we made it to Minnesota.

Last night at Minot, ND, we stopped for a short time, and I organized a foraging mission to the vending machines at the station house. I was able to obtain some Cheetos, but to my horror, someone was seated next to me. And he farted a lot. For a while, I was thinking of moving him to the top of my list, but a seat cleared and he moved away, so Fatman is still menu item one.

As the train gets progressively farther from the Pacific Northwest, there are less and less people from the Seattle Area aboard, and more and more people from bass-ackwards midwest hick towns. The average IQ has been steadily falling. I estimate it is currently below 100, and should normalize around 65. I pray to God for this hell ride to end soon.

I caved in and ate breakfast on the train. Turns out, fairly well priced, and good food. My penance, though, was to sit beside two senile old ladies who asked, among other things, if I had a dog, on no less than three occasions. I was also across from a delightful, charming woman, who had been a missionary to Africa, and had been all over the world.

And upon my mention of Jerusalem, turned out to be an apocalypse nut. She thinks the end is coming soon, but I've been riding this train of the damned longer than she has. It's already here, baby, and we have front row seats.[? Probable vernacular expression]

As I was eating, the train pulled into Minneapolis, and the train began switching cars. Which apparently means we lose power. So I sit in a dark un-air conditioned car, and wonder how this didn't happen sooner. I wonder how this surprised me. I thought I would be prepared for the influx of locusts and frogs. Instead we lose power.

And gnats. Biting stinging gnats. Lots of 'em. Swarms of gnats. Bring 'em on. Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean it won't. Damn hell gnats.
[Degraded handwriting quality indicates that the author may not have been in a stable mental condition at the time of having written this]

Estimated average IQ 82

Oh joy of joys! My heart sings! We left stinking Minneapolis. Goodbye, sewage smell. Goodbye, buzzing flies. Goodbye, Fatman.

Ah, but all good thingsjust get your hopes up to dash them in the end. Taking up the considerable vacuum left by Fatman, and looking up to the challenge, are two heifers
[? Probable vernacular insult] who haven't stopped eating or complaining, and my spider sense tells me they won't.

As we pulled out of Winoa MN, destined for what I can only think of as Hell level 5, having seen the first 4 already, a young woman became very distraught. I quickly held my breath and plugged my ears, prepared for the hordes of gnats. But turns out she was supposed to get off the train there. She forgot her passport on board, got back on the train to retrieve it, and off we went. It seems Charon didn't feel she had gone far enough. Charon is a good driver, but kindof a dick. [? Degraded handwriting quality]

I am somewhat lifted in spirit, realizing that this iron horse of doom [?] isn't meant for me alone. There are others on board, having as sucktastic [?] a time as I am. But it will still be quite some time befoire I can smile about it.

Estimated average IQ 76

As we cross into Wisconsin, the river we are following is a slow moving brown sludge, invoking memories of diarrhetic episodes. I can only shudder to think what sort of demon spawn live beneath the ripples. However, as I look around my car, I feel a sudden subtle urge for a swim.

When the lesser of two evils is up against the mass transit system of Pandemonium, it really starts looking like Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. [? Degraded handwriting quality]

Ah, La Crosse, WI. I will never forget you. Not even after you've burned to the ground, and your ashes seeded with salt. Screaming children are the trumpet blast that call forth the armies of the Dark One, especially when they seem to be competing, in a sort of deuling banjos meets tormented souls sort of way. Curse you, La Crosse. Keep you evil clarion callers to yourself.

...
[?]

Still somewhere in WI. Can't really see it mattering where. There's a little tourist area outside, with a "Torture Museum". Please. Either they've rode the same train I am currently on, or they've talked to the poor souls stumbling off its cursed rails. Still, can't help but think "Been there, done that".

[The author completely abandons syntax and any sort of cohesive writing style at this point. Some fragments recovered are as follows.]

"... so many hunting towers, several in every field, that it looks like the guard towers of a prison camp. What they don't know..."

"...there are more abandoned buildings in Milwaukee than ones currently in use..."

"...arrived in Chicago. Switching trains..."

[At this point, reconstruction of events leads us to believe that the author was informed that his luggage was already removed from the train, and was unavailable. Even the location of the bags was at that time unknown. The expletive-rife tirade that followed indicates that the author headed on to New York, arrived safely, and talked to many people. eventually convincing them to have the luggage shipped from wherever it was finally found, to the authors present location.

One final entry, in drastically different handwriting, is provided, and left to the reader to assume the tone thereof]

"...arrived at camp. Baggage arrived. Making many new friends. Gonna be a wonderful summer. And saying I don't want to go home doesn't just apply to the journey required to get there."

Uh-huh ...

Congrats on surviving the travels, and your own impressions of the folks and countryside along the way.

More news from Dan's summer (received via email - I enjoyed it, so thought I'd share ) :

***********BEGIN EMAIL***********
from: Dan
to: [me and his family]
date: 20-Jul-2007
subject: Hello from camp

----

Hey everyone
Camp is going great. It's about half over, so figured it was time to write something.


PRE-CAMP

Pre-camp started out great. Got to camp, and waited a few days for my bags to show up, but in the meantime, did lots of weedwhacking, and raking, and general cleaning up to get ready for the campers. We are here a couple weeks before the campers ever get here, to train in the things we'll be doing.

I'm in the O&A department (Outdoor and Adventure) so we are in charge of the climbing wall, zipline and high ropes course, a deathtrap called the Toboggan slide, the archery range, biking trips, and the overnight camping trips, and river canoe / kayak trips.

The O&A staff are all really great people from all over the world, mostly far away foreign places like Canada.
There's also two from South Africa, three from Israel, and one guy from England. We quickly became very close, having shared many torturous hours together, doing strenuous teambuilding activities, like raking.

The other specialists, like the waterfront people, and the sports people, and the general councellors, are also pretty cool. Good bunch of people.

I've had the day off today, and slept most of it, so pardon if this skips around, or generally makes no sense. I might revise it and send it later, or you might just get the feed straight from the source.

The food here is good. We usually wake about 715, eat at 8, do stuff until 1245, eat, do a bit more cleaning, then go watch TV in the staff lounge until 6, eat, and then do more whatever until bedtime.


After training on the climbing and belaying stuff and taking a trip down the Delaware river in a canoe, in what I imagine were slightly less soggy footsteps than George Washington, it was decided that since I had prior experience in archery (Q: "Do you know what this is?" A: "It's a bow." Response: "Good job, you're the archery instructor!") I became the archery instructor.

The camp sent me to a camp callled New Jersey Y Camp, which was oddly still in Pennsylvania, for two days, where I did lots of class work learning archery, and shot a lot as well.

I came back to camp Towanda fully prepared to silently kill things from great distances. Unfortunately, the equipment we have is, shall we say, not up to my standards. Still, I've adapted, and overcame, and am quite deadly at shooting large yellow circles. I guess it would be a bit rascist to say I'll be ready when we go to war with China, but eh.




CAMP

The kids ruined camp. Things were really great until they showed up. The biggest change was the food. And that we no longer really get much free time. I ramble.

Breakfasts before they got here used to be pancakes, waffles, hashbrowns, sausage, bacon, eggs, and fruit.
Now, pick one of those things, and we get it for three days, and then it switches to something else.

I'm still having a good time here, and might do this next year, schedule permitting, but I really prefer pre-camp.

I became a counsellor of the Middies, which are a group of about 30 spoiled ten year olds. I still go away to O&A stuff each day, so it's nice not seeing them, and most of them are pretty cool kids, but in packs, they can get pretty bad.

I don't think any of them have ever made a bed, or cleaned, in their life. There are nine of them in the bunk with me, and 4 other counsellors, and each night, it it absolutely terrifying. I would just step on the clothes and things, but there are always highly sentimental toys the kids leave hidden under these clothes, and as soon as these things, having been left alone and forgotten for a week, get stepped on and broken, the child instantly breaks into either sadness, or outrage, and regales you of tales about how they were just playing with that ever so special whatever.

And they don't like going to sleep. We try and try to get them in bed, and as soon as you turn away, and look back again, they are gone, who knows where, bugging who knows who. Eventually, they're all in bed, and you've threatened to take away their free time, candy, and bring in te boys head counsellor, the camp owner, and a vial of Hepatitis C, and they're finally quiet, but then one of them will fart, and off goes the laughing and shrieking, and running, and sudden uncalled-for nudity, and it's always very painful getting them to go to sleep.

As for my days, I wake in the morning, we get dressed and get breakfast, and then I head to the O&A area. Usually having archery, I go there and set things up, and wait for whichever group of kids is inbound. Please don't send any camoflauge clothing, as the temptation will be too great.

The boys generally like archery. The girls generally don't care all that much, although both groups have several prodigies and standouts. Especially the older boys.

Camp is nice, though, in that there is always things going on. From talent shows to skits to entertainers like magicians and hynotists, our evenings are usually some kind of nice activity we just take the kids to, and they have fun, and we don't need to do much.

Today was my day off, but they all went to a fun park nearby. Last week, we went to Hershey Park, ate lots of chocolate, and went on all the roller coasters.


The camp is near a little town called Honesdale, and near a slightly bigger town called Scranton.
Most people in these towns wear hats saying "John Deere" or "Nascar", and wear shirts with "Professional" Wrestling people or Nascar stuff on them.

I try not to go into town, if I can help it.

Getting kinda sleepy, after a whole day of not doing anything, so I guess this'll do for now. If anyone has questions or comments, feel free to let me know.

**************END EMAIL******************



I talk to him quite a lot, either on email (sometimes) or on the phone (nearly every day), and mostly he seems to be really enjoying himself. And I'll get there myself pretty soon, so that'll be fun.

Please do send him my supportive hugs, and symnpathies. I'm not totally sure if they ought to be because of the kids, the food, or the surplus of Canadians in his particular zone. But what the heck, he IS having one helluva experience.


*hides away all shirts with yellow circles on 'em*

He wants to get himself a truck and a rifle, and strap a dead deer to the hood of the truck, that way he can go into town and they'll treat him like a local

Well glad he's having fun.

I don't think he actually wants to do that, no... I really can't imagine him as a redneck (thank Bob for that).