WHERE THE WILD THINGS WENT

Camping sounded fun. So, like most hip, young adults would, we piled into the minivan at 6:00 AM and headed for the mountains. Seven hours later, Debbie, Wayne, Realtoon, one Mr. Matty, and I found ourselves in The Smoky Mountains. Our plans included three days of hiking, fire-making, eating, frolicking, swearing, swimming, singing, sewing, and occasional sleeping. All went like a John-Denver-Sweet-Rocky-Mountain dream. All, that is, except for the lack of dreams. Try zipping five full-grown adults into one 8'x8' tent. Common sense be damned! Four of us lay vertically-- shoulder-to-shoulder-- and Debbie lay horizontally at our feet. I don't recommend anyone attempt sleep in a tent this size with more than three adults. After a day of being covered in sweat, dust, smoke, Off, and soot, I don't recommend this situation with more than two people. After this day and an evening of hot dogs, s’mores, chips, apple pies, pop, beer, Swiss Miss, and toasted marshmallows, I don't suggest more than one person in a tent. Needless to say, having the five of us all under one roof put the risk of asphyxiation at code red. For the first hour we all lay stunned, except for Wayne, who passed out mid-sentence in the first three minutes. An hour in and, at risk of meltdown, Realtoon abandoned our tent and took refuge in the van. Apparently, the echoing snores from what he dubbed "man canyon" was too much. Around 2:00 AM, it felt like an alien was trying to deliver itself through my colon-- thanks to the producers of Swiss Miss hot cocoa and the folks at Morningstar Farms, makers of the world's most rubber-like veggie dog. In frantic pursuit of the exit, I crushed Debbie in several places (send cards, flowers and Ramen) and staggered to the latrine. For the remainder of the night, Mr. Matty and Wayne took turns being kept awake by each others' snoring. All in all, I give this tent experience negative three out of six stars, the redeeming factor being that none of us caught any communicable diseases.