Camp Host Diaries

Well, let’s try something new.

The thick blue journal that I bought to create a Camp Host Diary here– like the ones I used last year in Yosemite– was accidentally soaked in Kombucha.

Can’t keep paper soaked in sugar in the tent. Mice would come for it.

Besides, I wasn’t feeling motivated to write about the daily occurrences in this campground. There barely are any.

But I guess we can start with last week’s drama.

Last year, in Yosemite, I had so much more authority. If someone made too much noise, I would turn their music down myself.

Out here in between the city and the country, things are different. As everyone keeps reminding me, this isn’t a national park.

When I see someone disobeying the rules, all I can do is go politely remind them of the rules. If they argue or refuse to comply, all I can do is walk away and call for backup.

This is what happened last weekend when a woman who I’ll call Ashley (not her real name) got cheeky with me.

People were speeding to and from her site at high speeds, which is a huge no no around here.

Remembering a tactic I learned in Yosemite, I looked up the name of the registered camper, and asked to speak to her straight away.

“Hi! Do you happen to be Ashley?”

“Yes!”

“Hi, I’m Sylvia. I’m the Camp Host. I just needed to talk to you about the cars speeding to and from your site.”

“What cars?”

“The black Ferrari.”

“What black Ferrari?”

“I have a video.”

“Okay, well, I can’t control how other adults drive.”

“You actually are responsible for the behavior of anyone you invite to your site. That’s one of the rules you agreed to when you made your reservation.”

“Oh my God, I’ll take care of it. You didn’t have to tell me five times.”

“Okay. Have a nice night.”

She had a great night. She and her teenagers kept the whole campground up till 4am.

The next day, an entire posse of rangers descended on their site to lecture them. They reminded them to quiet down, clean up their trash, stop blowing air horns, and behave better in general.

A few hours later, I was changing the toilet paper rolls when two teenage girls who were camping with Ashley entered the restroom.

One of them said, “You know what we could do to her?” And then she whispered something to the other.

Here’s what they did: they filled a bucket full of raw sewage from their RV, and then dumped it all over the handicapped stall of the women’s restroom.

I’ve been damn near burning out. I’m only a few days away from my vacation. I’ve already taken enough literal shit from campers.

Here’s a question to campers doing things like this: do you want the campground to shut down? We’re already short on volunteers. Don’t push me.

Ashley left several bad reviews of my campground, specifically warning people to watch out for me.

My boss is the one who power washed the sewage out of the restroom, so, he knows Ashley is (literally) full of shit.

I’m not the least bit worried about her reviews. But you know what is concerning?

I found her LinkedIn, and it turns out she’s a Commanding Officer in the Army. Isn’t that the shittiest part of this story?

A friend of mine who works in maintenance told me I’m very lucky to have a boss who would help clean up my mess.

Agreed.