The only message I heard the preacher deliver the morning of June 20, 2010 was that the youth were going camping. I opened my eyes a little wider and perked up in my seat. I looked up at the analog clock hanging by a nail on the wall. The hands read 12:45 p.m. I could not believe I slept for two whole hours, but I was relieved that I awakened to the sound of Pastor informing the congregation of the trip. As soon as we were dismissed, I bolted through the double doors of the sanctuary to sign my name on the list. I discovered I was too short to reach the sheet on the bulletin board, so I had no other choice except to wait on Mom. I predicted I would have to wait another thirty minutes because she was talking to Sister Sherry.

July 18 finally arrived, the day before our departure to Hickory Knob. Clothes, electronics, and cosmetics bulged out of my suitcase. My bag refused to close. Mom told me I had too many irrelevant items. Therefore, I would have to leave some of my belongings. The next day, we were on our way to the resort and arrived in little to no hours. The group checked into the barracks and began to unpack. When I ripped open my suitcase, my face froze. I threw out my most important possessions, such as outfits and hygiene products. I kept my Toshiba laptop, Nintendo DS, and Android tablet without realizing what I did. Gosh, Mom!

Instead of sleeping in the warm, cozy cabins, the youth voted to make our trip an adventure; all but me. Tents. I had to share one with our church’s piano player, Helen. Her smile quickly proceeded to a frown when I tossed the directions over my shoulder and into the lake. I fumbled around and the tent continuously collapsed on me like how it happens in the movies. Helen laughed at me from afar. An hour and a half later, the tent was halfway up. I decided it would last us through the night. Silence. I gradually turned around and saw everyone was asleep; all but me. Helen deserted me and cuddled with her sister, Jasmine, by the fire. I stormed over to my tent and plumped down inside. The cloth fell on top of me.

Pool, here I come! I was forced to run down to the mini-mart and purchase a resort t-shirt and shorts since I forgot my bathing suit. As the coldness of the water chilled my spine, I jumped in. Three feet was as deep as I could go, so my head was still above the water. My Dora the Explorer float constantly slipped off my waist. Somehow, I managed to deflate it. The water pushed up against my stomach and tickled my feet. Smoking hot teenager guys casually walked by and I casually sank to the bottom of the pool as I stared at them. “I’m drowning, I’m drowning!” I screamed. I fought the waves with all of my strength and then stopped to listen. Why have not I been rescued by someone yet? I blinked several times and opened my eyes. The attractive dudes stared at me and looked down. My head followed them, only to realize that a few splashes got into my eyes. Dora was smiling at me.

I was determined I would make the best of this wood trail. I appointed myself to be leader and hopped to the front of the line. Deer, snakes, and other ugly creatures made their way along the trail as well. I hurried past a squirrel running beside me and I tripped over a rock, a stick, and a dead animal. Blood oozed from my body and shots of pain rushed through me. The group must have wandered off into the wilderness because I swore they were following me. I was all alone with this opossum stretched out beside me. Everyone else was having a wonderful time and I failed at every obstacle. Maybe camping was not my niche.

This is one event I was certain I would not screw up: making s’mores around the campfire. Our youth leaders distributed three of the white sponges to each of us. I sat in between Helen and Jasmine on the log. As we dipped the marshmallows into the fire, we told spooky ghost stories. When it was my turn, I shared my experience with the dead possum. That was pretty creepy. “Booooo!” they hollered. I figured they were trying to add sound effects to my scary tale. Tears shed down my face (from the smoke, of course!) as my blackened marshmallows were removed from the heat. I ruined everything and I never did anything right. I did not deserve to be a member of the youth group. I snatched my s’mores, ran into the barrack, and ate my dessert in peace.

Home. Components still lay on the bed waiting to be packed. My camping trip was not so fun after all. The tent collapsed, a bunch of boys thought I was insane, I got lost on the wood trail, and I burned my marshmallows. The obstacles I faced seemed like I was the only one to do every tasks wrong, but somehow I learned a few lessons from this experience: pack all necessary materials, sleep in a barrack, keep a float on at all times, never run beside an animal, and do not toast marshmallows. My phone rang. It was Helen. “I just called to say that,” she paused, “you made our trip fun! You were the entertainment!” A happy camper is the best camper. I unzipped my luggage to grab my laptop to chat online with Helen and “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Who put the dead possum in my suitcase? Helen laughed.