I noticed as I waited in the parking lot for the bus to Camp Yucca Caca that the crowd of fellow campers seemed geekier and nerdier than usual. I wanted to go home, but my folks had dropped me off on the way to my sister's soccer practice. Protesting that my sister didn't have to go to camp for 2 months, only earned me laughs about boys go to camp and girls don't. Then I made the mistake of commenting on why girls should play soccer, if they shouldn't go camping. That's when the signed me up for the early session, so instead of 2 months at Yucca Caca, I'd be there 3 months--all summer!
From the look of things the first session was a science camp or something, as almost everybody else had a laptop or pda. If possible, I wondered if this session was going to suck worse than I'd feared.
When we were loaded on the bus, a nerdy, balding middle aged man with a moustache stood holding a clipboard. He cleared his throat, and we quieted down.
"Good morning, campers. First, I'd like to welcome all the Camp Yucca Caca regulars who are joining us in the early session we added this year. And then I'd like to welcome the former Atom Smashers Science Campers who are joining us at Camp Yucca Caca this year. Please be advised that behavior such as resulted in Atom Smashers Camp being shut down will not be tolerated. I know that inevitably some of you will play pranks, or experiment on your cabin mates. After all little mad scientists will be little mad scientists, but I want you all to promise that you'll design your experiments so that your camp mates will be restored to as near to their original state as possible," he paused, then turning to the driver said, "Let's go."
The bus ride was unpleasant as usual. A bumpy road, bad shock absorbers, a hot sweltering day with no air conditioning, and a bus load of smelly whispering nerds made it a bit less pleasant than usual. Though it seemed that way every year. But this year was worse, especially when I caught the guy across the aisle in the seat behind staring at me and whispering to his seat mate, "...perfect male specimen." I suppose I should have been flattered that a geeky nerd found me hot, but it was the way he said it. His voice was cold detached, and analytical. It was like he was talking about a perfect male specimen of gopher snake instead of me. Worse yet when we got to camp, I dicovered he'd be my bunk mate. His name was Hector Poindexter--I kid you not.