Ah yes, sleep-away camp, the good ol’ days. The days when messy buns and Soffe shorts ruled all and everyone had matching Baby-G watch tan lines. Camp was where you went to spend your awkward years. It was a magic place where legs went unshaved, hair was crunchy and tie-dye was all the rage.
Sleep-away camp was also a place where you met your best friends. You did everything together: swam in the lake, matched your outfits and even kissed the same boys. You sang every word to every camp song, told each other secrets and shared your most embarrassing stories. You could pick up where you left off with ease, as if no time had ever passed. There was simply no stronger bond than the one you had with your camp friends.
As I grew older I found myself reluctant to give all this up, so I continued to return. Suddenly I was 19-years-old and back at camp for yet another summer. I cannot imagine spending my time anywhere else. Camp is my second home.
Yet, at the same time I realized that sleep-away camp doesn’t look too impressive on a resume. Employers want to see work experience, and all I can offer them are countless memories from a place they’ve never been to.
Most people my age stopped going to sleep-away camp years ago, so they just cannot understand. Camp is my childhood; how am I supposed to leave that behind? I am not ready to be a “real” person yet. Can’t I just play with my friends forever?
So many of the things we do at camp are considered unacceptable in the real world. Where else can you find people singing on chairs, mud sliding down a hill or getting pied in the face? Where else can you shave someone else’s legs or actually enjoy a freezing shower? Where else am I going to eat steak in a cup or a Tollhouse all by myself? These are the things that constitute a session at camp and it’s how we identify the summer. I don’t know it any other way, nor do I want to.
Yet, I’m inevitably faced with the reality of growing up. Camp is for children and I need to be an adult. Britney really did have it right: I’m not a girl, not yet a woman. Hence here I am, stuck in between the two worlds.
Maybe I can find an internship that allows me to wear Nike running shorts and sneakers everyday. Maybe I can find a job where everyone in the office knows the words to “The General.” Maybe there is a place out there that’s just like camp... but who am I kidding? Nothing can be like camp. No experience can ever compare to the amazingness that is camp.
So here I come, corporate America! While you might be ready for me, I am most certainly not ready for you.
