Thursday, October 11, 2012

Campy Camping - Episode 4

One of the things I like about camping . . . besides doing not much of anything, relaxing by a raging fire and drinking beer (or whatever) at the crack of dawn without anyone giving me grief . . . is bedtime.

We . . . hubby and I . . . have a big giant double wide sleeping bad laid over a queen size air mattress.  It’s a very warm sleeping bag made even warmer by hubby’s hot body.

So, I love when it’s time to hit the sack and getting all snuggly and cozy in the sleeping bag, reading in the dark, listening to the crackling embers of the dying fire and the whispers of quiet conversations from the surrounding campsites . . . assuming said neighbors aren’t’ being loud and obnoxious.

Quiet time at our campground is from 10 PM to 7 Am . . . a reasonable mandate.

So, on night hubby and I were all cozy and comfy.  Me quietly snoozing . . . or loudly for all I know because hubby claims I snore . . . and him reading.

Unbeknownst to me, on this particular night, there was a bit of drama and I missed the whole thing.

Around midnight . . . well past designated quiet time . . . some happy (and likely intoxicated) camper decided it was a good time to rock some tunes . . . loudly.

Hubby, not inclined to take crap from anyone . . . especially when he’s all cozy warm in his big honkin’ sleeping bag next to his beautiful and talented wife during the anniversary of their honeymoon camping trip . . . had had enough of these raucous rock-n-rollers.

Me?  Comfortable and clueless.

So, he climbed out of the warmth of his bed into the chill October night air.  He grabbed his 120 lumen flashlight and slipped into the music filled darkness. 

The camp manager’s campsite happened to be right across from us so he shined that super bright flashlight into the windows of their camper hoping to gain the attention of their yippity, yappity, howly beagles who in turn would wake up their owners who would then hear the music and shut them the hell up.

Well, that plan failed . . . like me, beagles apparently are sound sleepers.

With what I can imagine was a bit of a grumpy attitude, hubby headed off into the darkness to track down the source of the disrupted quietude.

Once located, he shined his very bright flashlight right into the eyes of the perpetrator and announced in a firm authoritative tone . . .
“You!  Your music can be heard all over the campground.

“Quiet time is at 10:00 o’clock.

“Kill it or leave.”

In a subdued and submissive tone the rock-n-roller replied, “I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t know anyone else could hear it.”

Hubby flicked off his light and slipped into the cover of darkness.

Quiet again fell over the sleepy smoke hazed campground.

Hubby returned to bed.

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