Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Vol. CLIV, Issue 10
Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

My Failed Attempt at Avoiding Camping

Illustration by Gus Colwell

I was told two things were going to happen this weekend: I was going on a trip, and I would have a roof over my head. 

I’d been teased about this mysterious adventure for weeks, with my future kidnappers (friends, as they call themselves) dropping cryptic hints until one day, while dining at Cleve, one of them slipped up and mentioned “camping trip.” 

Forks collectively dropped around the table as they turned to quickly reassure me, a rare Whitman student who doesn’t like camping, that they had supposedly booked me my own yurt for the night while the others camped outside. 

Not only did I believe this because I had no idea what a yurt was, but to be sure they were telling the truth, I asked how much it cost. Somehow, with the answer being, “Average yurt pricing don’t worry about it,” that was enough reassurance for me. 

Between their deception and my naivety, I willingly packed my bag and lugged it to the people standing by the car, thinking they were there to assist me. But instead of reaching for my bag, they grasped my shoulders, forcing me to face them as well as the unsettling truth — there was no yurt. They acted as one, seizing me in a coordinated effort before I could run away, and tossed me in the car. 

And that’s how I got here, stranded in the wilderness, a pen in one hand and a hunting knife in the other. I’m uncertain whether I’ll publish this in The Wire or send it in a bottle as a desperate plea for help, but either way here is my updated opinion on camping:

It sucks. 

To the others, this is just taking a walk around some trees, but for me, it’s survival. I’m out here swinging my knife every time a twig snaps; I’m screaming thinking I’ve been shot when a mosquito lands on me; and, I’m toeing the edge of a cliff, contemplating the three-foot drop above Jubilee Lake while my smiling captors, who have already jumped, stand behind me, ready to shove me in. 

Normally, I prefer my satirical articles to convey their message subtly, but after this god-awful experience, I’ll be blunt: Never, under any circumstances, take me camping again.

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