I love camping and was more than excited to go up to Tahquamenon Falls with my best friend. The six hour drive didn’t seem like too much fun, but we had plenty of Pokemon games to keep us entertained. I love camping, unlike the rest of my family. My family’s version of camping is staying at a hotel without wifi. So, being sheltered by complimentary breakfast, I had no idea how to cook over a fire. I could do hobo pies, but thats with all of the store bought ingredients. I was put to the test when I was supposed to make hot dogs for people to eat at dinner. I’m not totally a city girl, but the lack of a microwave was making me a little bit uncomfortable. I tried my best. Don’t get it too close to the fire, you don’t want to burn it, but don’t keep it too far away, you don’t want it to be raw.
I got everything all set up and I was ready to cook. The bun and the plate were on the small table inside the bug free tent and all that was left to do was to join the others around the fire. There was no recipe to follow and no spray to get the smell away if I happened to mess up. Given my luck, something did go bad. I managed to get my hot dog in the perfect spot. The one spot that would catch it on fire. And not just a little bit on fire that you can blow out and it is still good to eat. This is not a marshmallow. The bright shining sun was blocked by the swaying trees. Sam walked into the camper behind me to inform her mother that we were starting dinner and quickly walked back out. The entire hot dog was covered in a blue flame. The outside was burnt to a crisp that flaked off whenever it moved. The inside was as cold as the ice that surrounds the arctic.
That happened last summer and I still hear people talking about it. I can walk into church and hear the laughter of everyone who has heard the story. To this day, I still cannot eat hot dogs.