Camping

Camping

Did you ever go camping when you were growing up?

You know, pack up the family, put the dog in the back, and drag a camper/trailer up and down the East Coast, stopping to see the sights, set up camp, cook a few hot dogs over the open fire, (occasionally pulling over at the side of the road to beat the youngest child for touching his sister, even though to this day, he swears he wasn’t on her side of the car), only to get home after three weeks and immediately put a ‘For Sale’ sign on the afore mentioned camper/trailer and vow to never speak of that trip again?

Or are those just repressed memories from *my* childhood?

What brings this up? My parents, brother and sister-in-law have decided to take a vacation. Not just any vacation, mind you. After 3 years of begging, pleading, tantrums, meltdowns, holding my breath until I turned blue, and even out-and-out bribery, I have finally convinced them to escape from work, take that long plane ride, brave the International Date Line and come to Oz. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Canterburys are coming to Australia.

Don’t worry; the authorities have been informed.

(I’m hoping they can catch them at the border and turn them away at the door; maybe suggest a nice country in the area that may not be booked out: ‘Oui, monsieur, we are open – but we have no more room, and your reservation got lost! Perhaps a quick flight over to New Zealand would be to your liking. And I hear Fiji has some wonderful sunsets…’ I probably won’t get that lucky. But I digress.)

But between my experiences of that dumb camper while growing up, and the stories from other vacations my parents have since taken which include being lost in England, losing purses in Vegas, and somehow – and I’m not making this up – Dad boogey-boarding in Hawaii, I cannot *wait* to read the travelogue of their little jaunt. You know, tales of trying Vegemite, chasing kangaroos, being chased by koalas, trying Aussie beer, trying to understand the Australian language, not to mention seeing their favorite child. I can almost see it becoming a book:

National Lampoon’s Down Under Vacation.

Maybe get Chavy Chase to star in the movie version – he bears a resemblance to my Dad. My brother could be played by Gary Sinise. As I’m heading to Sydney for a long weekend to hang out with them, maybe get Brad Pitt to play me.

Of course, you’d have to pretty him up a bit to make him look as good as me…

And with that, it’s the weekend. With the relatives on the continent, I’ll head over to Sydney to spend some quality time with them, seeing the sights, touring around, trying the local delicacies (read: beer). Not to mention repressing the memories of this weekend…

As always, Love to All and keep working on your 101 List!
Bryan