The Camping Trip; Part One

"The Camping Trip" is a five day series, consisting of five different parts, to be presented daily--the 18th to the 22nd--from five different vantage points. If you get behind, don't worry because they'll be on here for good. If you want to get ahead, you're out of luck, because I'm making this up as I go. Enjoy.

LEO
I was pretty excited about the trip. I needed a little break. Summer classes were definitely more laid back, but they were five weeks instead of ten, so the pace of the curriculum was rapid. Not to mention, I just wanted to be done with Italian. I should’ve finished it in Rome last winter, but instead I was in Cedar Falls, taking summer classes.
Bengi had been nearly tripping with excitement all week. He had the idea since we started college but he could never round the troops enough to make it happen. He started getting his camping stuff together on Tuesday—had his truck packed on Wednesday—and probably couldn’t sleep a lick on Thursday night. He said he was taking a half day on Friday, so we could hit the road no later than 2 o’clock. The timing would work out just right if it all went as planned. I'd get class over with by noon, head back to my place, throw the rest of my stuff together by one--right around the time he swung by to pick me up. Smitty had to work until five, so he wouldn’t get up to Appache Creek until at least seven. That would give Bengi and me the perfect amount of time to set up the campsite, get a fire going, and start dinner.
So I'm walking to class and my cell phone starts ringing. It was Alyssa. We met in Italian in the spring. I saw her on the first day of class, talked to her on the second, and took her out for the first time on the third. We dated for three months and I really fell for her. Everything was great, and then, out of the blue, she told me it was over. She broke up with me about two weeks prior. She said I wasn’t exciting enough—that I lacked creativity. To tell you the truth, I didn’t mind breaking up. I just didn’t think she had to call me boring.
“Hello,” I answered. “Yeah, I’m goin’ to class. I’m walking in right now. Are you coming?”
That was my present dilemna; I was stuck in my final Italian class with her—two weeks in, and three to go.
I walked into the small room and sat down. No one really came on Fridays. There were three other kids and the instructor. Then Alyssa rushed in. She sat down right next to me. I wish she wouldn’t have come, and I was looking forward to an entire weekend two hours away from her.
“Hey,” she said with a smile.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Any plans this weekend?” she asked.
“Goin’ camping up at Appache with Bengi and Smitty. A guy’s weekend.”
The look on her face dropped. I knew immediately what she was thinking.
“I thought we were going camping next weekend,” she said.
We made the plans before she broke up with me. However, when she told me I was boring, I kind of figured I'd cancel any future plans.
“So…we’ll go a week early,” I said.
I never did well under pressure.
“Okay,” she said. “Sounds fun.”
At the time I already knew it as a bad idea.

ALYSSA
I had to get to class. I had to get that guy out of my house.
“Wake up,” I said, causing him to take his head out from under the pillow.
He was cute, I guess. I was so drunk the night before I couldn't remember exactly how we met. Oh well. I’d make him give me a ride to class, then I’d give him a fake number, and I’d probably never see him again. Problem would be solved.
“Can you give me a ride to class?” I asked him.
“Yeah…let me get dressed,” he said.
I rushed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, threw my hair in a pony-tail, rushed back to my room, grabbed my bag and slipped on my flip flops. I was ready to go, and so was my fling from the night before. I definitely don't remember his name, but I remember he drove a black Siverado. I love guys with pick-up trucks. I don’t know why, I just think it makes them so much hotter.
“I had fun last night,” he said to me as he pulled his truck onto Campus Loop.
“Yeah. It was fun,” I said back.
“We should do it again,” he said.
“Yeah. Definitely.”
I pulled out my cell phone and called Leo to see if he was going to class. I should’ve called him before I got out of bed. I could’ve just skipped class and got his notes and copied them. He was good for that sort of thing. He would do anything for me; all I had to do was ask. I wish there was a way for him to take my tests. I bet he would've done it if there was a way.
“Hey,” I said as he answered. “You goin’ to class? Where you at? Yeah, I’m coming. I’m walking there right now. Just go in, I don’t want you to be late. I’m walking past the corner of Sycamore and Campus Loop. Bye.”
I had to tell him I was walking. If I didn’t he’d have all sorts of questions. Who was it? How do you know him? How come I’ve never heard about him? A bunch of questions that I didn’t feel like making up answers to.
“Alright, here it is,” I said to the guy as we pulled up to Dolan Hall. Class was really two buildings down, in Sherwood, but I was afraid Leo would be waiting outside. He was really annoying like that.
“Can I get your number?” the guy asked me.
“Yeah. 937-3564…Call me.”
I got out and walked past Dolan to Sherwood. I went downstairs and into the classroom. I sat down next to him.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing. Any plans this weekend?”
“Goin’ camping up at Appache with Bengi and Smitty. A guys weekend,” he said.
What was I going to do? We were supposed to go camping the next weekend. I wasn't going to sit in that boring little town all by myself for the weekend. I’d just guilt him into inviting me. So I gave him “the look”. I had done it a million times. It never failed me. It worked when I wanted to go to that concert with Nick—my ex. It worked whenever I wanted him to change the TV channel. He really couldn’t ever say no to me.
“I thought we were going camping next weekend,” I said, knowing he'd cave.
I watched him as he twisted in his seat. It would only be a matter of a few seconds.
“So…we’ll go a week early,” he said.
“Okay. Sounds good,” I said before turn towards the front of the class.
HOOK, LINE AND SINKER…I got him again.

BENGI
Finally. It was about time we made the trip. Three and a half years we’d been talking about ski trips, camping trips, beach trips, and nothing. Now it was happening. It was beautiful outside. It was perfect. Flannigan was letting me leave work at noon, so I could swing by and pick up Leo by one. We’d get a bite to eat and hit the road.
I had been so excited about the trip that I started getting out my camping stuff on Tuesday. I had the truck packed since Wednesday. I couldn’t sleep at all on Thursday.
It was about ten-thirty, and I had one last quote to do for a guy out in Sugar Hills, then get back to the office to file the paperwork, and then I’d be on my way.
“How’s it going?” I asked the guy.
“Good,” he said.
He seemed like a real pampered, white-collar type. The house was about five thousand square feet. It would've taken me at least three hours to measure everything and get the numbers exactly right.
“I’m just gonna do some measurements, and I’ll have a quote for you in no time,” I said to the guy.
“Alright. Thanks,” the guy said.
I'd just call Smitty and ask him what we charged the Moore’s down the street for the molding and woodwork we put up over there. Then I’d walk around, pretend to do a thorough job, and get the hell out of here. I wasn't going to let that house get in the way of my weekend.
“Hey, Smitty…got a question. Look up the Moore file and tell me what we quoted them for the molding and woodwork…and then what it actually cost.”
It was just a summer internship anyway. They always made me do the measurements at least twice, and half the time they sent someone out to re-measure before they gave the final quote. I’d just tell this rich sap what we quoted the Moore’s, go back to the office, avoid Flannigan, and tell him I must’ve left the paperwork in the truck if he called me later that afternoon.
“We quoted the Moore’s at thirty-five hundred? Alright. Thanks, Smitty. So, Flannigan won’t let you out at noon? I don’t think we’d fit the three of us in the truck anyway. Make sure you’re on the road by five. Me and Leo should get up there by four. Don’t forget the tarp. Alright, man…later.”
So I broke out the old tape measurer, did a little bit of this and little bit of that, and by eleven I walked into the kitchen where the rich sap was reading the Wall Street Journal.
“Looks like it’ll be in the neighborhood of thirty-five hundred,” I said. “Could be a little higher, could be a little lower…I’ll probably have to make another trip out on Monday.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Just give us a call before you head out. I should be here all day.”
What a bastard. The guy sat around in his linen pants and silk shirts reading about his millions of dollars all day. I should’ve quoted him at forty-five hundred—just out of spite.
Out the door, into my truck, onto the road, back to the office, successfully avoided Flannigan for thirty minutes, and I was on my way to get Leo. That trip was just what we needed.

SMITTY
105 lines. That was my high score in Tetris and it was only 10:30. Bengi always got to go out and do the measurements. I knew that S.O.B was probably hanging around Speedway, sitting in his truck, listening to Mike and Mike in the Morning, while I was sitting in there, at that desk, waiting for Flannigan to yell at me again. It was only a summer internship, what did that guy really expect from me?
“Smith!” Flannigan yelled from his office.
I closed the Tetris screen on my computer, got up, and walked over to his doorway. “Yes, Mr. Flannigan?”
“I need you to get all of these quotes and end costs into the computer, and filed by the end of the day,” he said and pointed to a stack of yellow files on the end of his desk. There must have been at least fifty there.
“Yes, sir.”
There went my chance of getting out by noon. Bengi always got the breaks. He got to go out in the field, do the measurements, and pretty much screw around however he wanted, and I got stuck in that cave, within Flannigan’s sight all day.
I went back to my desk. My phone rang and it was Bengi.
“Yeah? The Moore file? Cutting corners again, huh?”
Not only did this guy get out of the office, he didn't even do his job when he got to the site. That was the fourth time that week he called me for a quote on another house. I dug through the stack of files, looking for Moore. I couldn’t find it. Thirty-five sounded like a good number, so that's what I told him.
“Thirty-five hundred. Yep. No getting out by noon. Flannigan just gave me a stack of files—three feet high. I’m leaving straight from the office. The tarp is in my trunk. Later.”
I hung up. Then my phone rang again. This time it was Mandy, my girlfriend.
“I’m at work, what? Of course I have something planned for the weekend…Yeah, like I’d forget that tomorrow was our anniversary. We’re goin’ camping. Up at Appache. Just the two of us. So be ready by 5:15. Love you. Bye.”
Bengi was gonna kill me. What could I do? It was our anniversary…whatever that meant. Could've been fourteen months since we first kissed, could've been seven months since I first said I love you to her, which she really suckered me into by the way. It seemed like we had a different anniversary for something every two weeks. I was so toast. Right from the beginning. If Bengi didn’t kill me, Mandy would.

MANDY
I wondered what Mark was gonna do for me over the weekend. I was hoping it would be romantic. It was our first anniversary. He was clumsy and he forgot a lot of things, but I was sure he’d remember and plan something. I didn’t expect a lot. I just wanted it to be just the two of us. I wanted it to be special and memorable. So I called him. I didn't care much for surprises. Okay, I'm lying. What girl doesn't love surprises. I just figured I'd better remind him in case he did forget. I at least wanted a present.
“Hey honey, whatchya doin? Oh. So do you have anything planned for the weekend? You do? Because tomorrow is our anniversary and I was hoping for something special. Camping? I love Appache. Is anyone else goin, cuz I was kind of hoping it would be just the two of us. Perfect. I’ll be ready by then. Love you, too. Bye.”
I was really impressed. I had to hand it to him. A nice romantic weekend, just the two of us, camping. I actually hated camping—sleeping on the hard ground, and not showering for days, but it was the thought that mattered. I knew he wasn't made of money, so I wasn't expecting him to take me to the Cayman Islands or anything. But that would've been nice…the Cayman Islands. By the two-year mark we'd be ready for that sort of trip. He’d be graduated by then and should have a real job. Maybe we’d even be engaged by then, I thought. Two years. If we’re still together by the two-year mark I'd expect a ring.
There I went again. I was always getting ahead of myself. I needed to enjoy that weekend first. Our Weekend. Just the two of us. I really hoped he'd take me to the Cayman Islands the following year. I figured that may be when he’d give me the ring. It would be so romantic. Our two year anniversary, on the beach, sun setting, and all of a sudden he'd get on his knee and take the box out of his pocket. I’d say yes. In a heartbeat, I’d say yes.