Camping & "Neighbors"

So when I was camping with my son a couple weekends ago, I had neighbors. To my right were 2 moms whose sons were at the camp as well. To my left, I had insomniacs.

As you might imagine, it is not so easy to sleep in a tent. The "bed" is unfamiliar. If the moon is full, it's like having a light on; and the wind was blowing fiercely which made a lot of noise and blew the tent around. The first night, one of the played the guitar. Had the guy known an entire song, it would have been nice. He kept playing the same riffs of some Christian worship songs, Smoke on the Water (not quite the same on an acoustic guitar, I assure you), and Oh Susanna. Portions of any and all of these over and over is maddening. Finally I went to sleep. I think. I kept hearing farting. It was sort of like being at home, except I didn't know who was responsible for the raunchiness.

The next night, one of the guys broke out a chess board about 11:00 PM. He was giving improv lessons and taking on other dads at chess, apparently beating them. And of course they had a big light on so they could see the board. All I know is, about the time I'd doze off, I'd hear "Check." It was like waiting on the other shoe to drop. Then I'd hear another voice say "Check." That would go one awhile, back and forth. It was all I could do to not call out "For the love of Pete, Check Mate him already!!!" So then one guy starts showing the last remaining interested opponent all his secret chess moves, and how to check mate in 3 moves. I had to hear the story of his dad loving chess, and all the chess nerds who showed up at his dad's funeral. Again, I wanted to call out "you'll be planning your own funeral if you don't' shut the #&^@ up!" This went on until about 2:30 in the morning. Mind you, this was when daylight savings time was shifting, so we essentially had to be up an hour earlier. Finally, I hear the two guys part, having enjoyed their chess tryst. I breathe out a big sigh.... only to hear guitar music again. Someone else from the camp hollered to "shut up!" and whoever it was took a hint. In my mind, I kept picturing that scene from "Animal House" where John Belushi listens to the guy singing a folk song for a moment, then grabs his guitar, smashes it into pieces, hands it back and says simply "sorry." If I thought it wouldn't' have cost me a fortune to replace his guitar, I was considering the same action.

So the next morning, I told my lady neighbor how little sleep I'd gotten because Bobby Fisher had insomnia, and she told me she got up during the night, walked over there, and quietly asked them to turn off the lights and go to sleep. They did not, and looked at her as if she was a martian. And she was 2 tents away! All I know is, next camp out, I'm going to be asking "anyone play the guitar? what about chess?" And whoever answers will get me the farthest possible distance away, pitching my tent. Jerks.