Taking out the tiny tent
I’ll tell you a secret.
But you have to promise not to make fun of me.
I still use the child-sized tent I got in sixth grade.
I am living proof that a full-grown adult can fold herself up to fit into a bright blue dome tent designed for approximately 2.2 children. You know, the average number of children in an American family. Little-known fact: It’s also the average number of siblings that will keep their parents awake all hours by shouting “HE LOOKED AT ME!” during a family campout.
This tent even looks like a child’s tent. Bright blue, crossing-guard yellow and tentmaker turquoise is what I call all the colors on it.
I’m lucky there isn’t a Dora the Explorer logo.
But a tent’s a tent, no matter how small. It keeps you dry ... For the most part. Dew is nothing for this tent. But rain? Well, I’ll put it this way. If you are tall, the foot of your sleeping bag touches one tent wall and your pillow touches the other. You might wake up with a stiff toe and wet hair.
I’ll pretend I didn’t learn that from experience.
Who needs a roomy tent, anyway? It’s not like you spend time inside it. When I go camping, the idea is to be outdoors – hiking, swimming, canoeing, or even riding a zipline like you can do at France Park. Tent time is for unconscious people. And unconscious people don’t know they’re in something the size of a doghouse.
I can see it now. Snoopy pursuing the Red Baron on top of my blue-and-yellow children’s tent.
But remember the rain? I hear you tell me.