Monday, August 13, 2012

And then The Prince dragged me to his family reunion where I was forced to camp and it was terrible

Picture this, dear friends: me, The Prince, his immediate family and 400 other people who are all related to The Prince in some way. Now take all of those people and put them in the same campground.

Oh, and did I mention that those 400 other people are predominately French? As in French is their native language and they don't speak English? And even if they know you don't speak French, they're somehow inclined to speak French at you?

Look at me, perpetuating Canadian stereotypes on the internet. I am all kinds of awesome.

I should also mention that I am SO not the camping type. I don't camp. Because gross.

Anyway, here are some things that happened while I was stranded on a three-day camping trip that was also a giant French family reunion:

1) The Prince and his father lied to me about how long it would take to get to the tiny, northern Ontario town we were going to. They said the drive would take four hours. It took nine. NINE. Also, The Prince's little brother insisted on being in the same car as us, so at one point when I was driving and The Prince was napping, I got to talk to a very enthusiastic 10-year-old about all the possible uses there are for DUCT TAPE.

2) I whined and complained about sleeping on the ground enough that one of The Prince's cousins gave us their air mattress. I count this as pretty much my only "win" of the weekend.

3) Torrential downpours and thunderstorms. TORRENTIAL. I woke up on the second night because our tent had collapsed on us. Then I had to wake up The Prince: "HEY. HEY. THE TENT IS ON ME. HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO SLEEP THROUGH THIS? I FUCKING HATE CAMPING. GO FIX THIS PIECE OF SHIT."

4) The air mattress I whined my way into getting had a slow-leak hole in it somewhere, so it really only protected me from sleeping on the cold, wet ground for about an hour after going to bed. Glorious, no?

5) I was eaten by bugs. Big scary ones. And everyone made fun of me for constantly applying bug spray like I was being a total princess or something. WHATEVER, JERKS.

6) There were a measly FOUR showers available on the campground for all 400 people to use. When I finally got a chance to use one, I cried while I washed my hair because the water stank like LAKE.

7) I rolled over in our tent and landed in a puddle. It was at that moment that I let out a glorious "FUCK", elbowed The Prince (because obviously everything was his fault) and stormed out of the tent to go sleep in the car.

8) I figured out where The Prince got his snoring talent from. HIS DAD. HE GOT IT FROM HIS DAD. Honestly, I thought there were bears outside the tent planning to eat my face. When I migrated to the car in anger, I could still hear him snoring from his tent, which was about thirty feet away. When I walked all the way to the main cabin at 4am to use the washroom, I could still hear The Prince's dad making angry bear sounds. Seriously, that is some impressive range, am I right? I stood on the deck of the cabin and laughed to myself BECAUSE HOLY SHIT HOW IS ANYONE ELSE ASLEEP RIGHT NOW I HATE ALL YOU SONS OF BITCHES.

9) A few of us took a trip to Quebec (which was only 20 minutes from where we were camping) in search of cheap beer. We found beer right away (at a gas station, ha) and then continued down the highway in search of anything else remotely cool. When the first town we came upon was composed of only churches and little houses, we decided Quebec sucked and turned the car around.

10) When we were saying our goodbyes, a few members of The Prince's extended family said things like "See you in four years at the next reunion!" I smiled and nodded, but once I was in the car and the windows were up, I grabbed The Prince's arm, gritted my teeth and uttered the words "Never. Again." Then I had to spend the nine-hour drive back our hometown listening to The Prince tell me that "It will be better next time" because he's planning on buying a 400-dollar tent. 400 DOLLAR TENT MY ASS; I WILL BE GETTING A DAMN HOTEL ROOM.

So, yeah.


  1. I'm amazed you didn't have a panic attack at 1) the sight of all those french people, 2) being suffocated by mother nature AND the tent at the same time, and 3) the little brother. I'm guessing he wasn't willing to play The Quiet Game?! Who won the main cabin lottery?! Hell, no. I'd never go back either.

    1. Oh, I did have a few panic attacks. No quiet game, you got that right.

      No one got to sleep in the main cabin. No one.

  2. Holy hell. Because that's exactly what it sounds like. I can picture it so well because I've been there. Waking up with your butt on the ground and head mildly held up by the last bit of air in the mattress scratching the skin until you see bone because the bugs are relentless. Yeah then we got a camper. I still complained. Hell. Glad you survived, sort of.

  3. I think you loved it more than you think you did ;) How else would you be able to tell such a thrilling tale? xx

  4. Because, gross.

    EXACTLY! Dont let him rope you into a $400 tent! It won't be any better unless it has a roof and walls made of not fabric to keep out the rain and bugs and snores. Do all men snore? Is that their thing? Who invented it and why is there not a solution?!

  5. I'm soooo sorry. That seriously sounded like Hell on earth.

  6. Hahahahahhahahhaha. Let the Prince buy a trailer? Trailers are warm and comfy.

    I love that you claim to be a country girl but shirk at camping <3 Although I have to agree that I could never choose to camp a) without an air mattress and b) in the rain. Fuck that for a joke. We used to camp when I was little and having a wet sleeping bag was the norm. Ick.


  7. I want to refrain from saying "i told you so", but I'm not going to.

    Camping for more than 1 (maybe 2) nights is pretty much the equivalent of having a rusty fork shoved up your ass. In other words, it's not fun. (Sorry to those who like rusty forks in their bums. I'm judging you a little.)

    I like to go camping for two reasons: to get shitfaced and to be terrified.
    I'm sorry to say that terrified of 400 francophones and snoring man bears doesn't count.

    You have four years to concoct an elaborate, believable excuse to not go again. Get working on it pronto.

    1. you told me so, you told me so...

      my excuse in four years: FUCK THAT.

  8. This is exactly how I have always imagined camping to be. Thanks for confirming the horrors (though if I ever do go camping, it'll probably be sans French relatives)!

    1. haha, yeah, it was not a good time. I had fun with the family though.

  9. French people are awesome. Being French myself, I'm completely unbiased. Because French people are awesome.

    Also, I am confused. Is The Prince French as well? And a ginger??? Because I grew up going to a K-12 French school all of my life and there was a grand total of one ginger kid in the entire school. The entire school. When I later went to an English university, I was like "Where DA FUCK are all of these ginges coming from?" And everyone was all "Uh, everywhere not French, you crazy Francobitch."

    1. French people are awesome. I live with one, so, you know, haha ;)

      The Prince is French, and yes, also a ginger! He's super weird, I know!


Thanks for commenting, lovely human.