Whenever people ask to see my , I can’t do much other than shrug my shoulders or sometimes I expound. I never went to prom, but I did spend prom night at Red Lobster with my cousin, and we enjoyed the admiral’s feast and endless biscuits. As an introvert but also a poor kid, I missed most of those notable adolescent moments and even childhood staples like .
That of venturing from home, even if it was just for a long weekend, was something I never experienced. At least not until I was in my 30s. Once I learned that adult summer camp was an actual thing, I was all in.
My first time visiting was a “ ” undertaking, and I immediately felt my going off the charts. I sat on the porch of my two-person dormitory by myself and just took in the air. Deep breaths in and out, I enjoyed the quiet, which was a nice change of pace from my Brooklyn apartment.
A few hours later, my anxiety switched to “I can do this!” as I met other campers. During dinner, which is served family style, I sat next to an adorable Black couple and not only was it nice to see kinfolk in the space, but they shared that this was their second time visiting. I quickly learned why.
It’s rare for strangers from all walks of life to share such close quarters with each other, even if it’s just for a weekend, but the number of repeat campers I encountered and from so many different backgrounds? There was something to it. This didn’t feel like the cliquish vibe that elementary and high school me would have.