So, A Bear and a Kid Walk Into a Bar
When I was in kindergarten, first and second grades my family lived in Alaska. This provided us with a lot of unique memories, and one of them came on a particular camping trip.
Before you were allowed to find your site and get set up, you had to stop by a park ranger type area to do some things. In at least one of these information/check-in areas, they had a TV on with a video playing about ‘bear safety,’ among other things. What do you do if you run into a bear, especially a female brown bear with kids? Find religion. The videos had some other suggestions, but I think my suggestion is as good as any.
When we went camping it was a lot of fun. The cold weather in the mornings, sleeping on the ground, the constant thought of bears – I loved it. I loved it so much that I opted to sleep in the car.
I actually did really enjoy camping. But I’m nobody’s fool (a car is far more comfortable).
One night, located in my luxurious backseat of Margerie the Mini-Van (other Stanley family cars have been Nancy the Volvo and Yoda the Toyota), I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I tried to see if I could hold off, but no, I couldn’t.
I snuck out of the car and closed the door as quietly as possible.
I started sneaking toward my parents tent – not wanting to wake up everyone, just my Mother (who else would I expect to be my personal bathroom expedition leader?).
Finally I made it to my parents tent, where my Mom was inside.
She was awake.
And pretty sure that the smartest bear ever was slowly unzipping the flap for the tent she and my father were in.
Man I love camping!