Sometimes, when you live amongst a lot of other people, things happen during the course of the day that you didn’t plan on. Sometimes those things can be a hindrance to whatever you were doing to begin with, and sometimes those things can be a really funny series of events that leaves you feeling like Gilligan on his three hour tour.
Yesterday evening we ate dinner surprisingly early – about 6:30. That was actually our normal time BC (Before Camper), but now we apparently don’t eat until at least 8:15. We’re wild like that.
Since it was early and had clouded up and gotten nice and cool we thought a little walk was in order while dinner was cooking on the grill. Marty had already gotten a shower and we just planned to take a little stroll and check out the new folks that had moved in.
We made it down our row and halfway up another when we noticed Don, the owner, opening all the sewer caps in our row and shaking his head. We wandered back over and he asked if Marty could take our sewer connection off so he could see if it was stopped up, because he thought his pump might have quit working.
Four minutes later we were running water from a hosepipe (garden hose for you damn yankees) down our sewer hole, which was indeed backed up. Three minutes after that Marty was knelt down rewiring the sewer pump. From shower to sewer repair in less than 15 minutes. It happens.
Then, after a thorough hand washing and our early dinner, we headed back out to finish our walk. We chuckled a bit as we passed an older lady attempting to walk an extremely unwilling tabby cat, or maybe the cat was taking her for an outing, it was hard to say.
Since I’m still hunting for my missing turtle, and the field next to the campground has started to dry up, we headed over there next to investigate. A little after dinner pond scavenging. It didn’t turn up any results, but I did see a real turtle and a baby rabbit, so I’ll take that as a win.
From there we headed back out, up one row and down a second, and met an older man sitting on a picnic table outside his motor home. He turned out to be the other half of the lady the cat was walking, and he stopped us to tell us about his harrowing drive in. Evidently the cruise control stuck on him just north of Birmingham and he had to get over to the side of the interstate and cut the engine off to stop it. Scary stuff. We stayed and talked to him for a bit, and the still visibly upset tabby cat howled at us from his leashed confinement the whole time. The cat lady came back out and we all chatted for a bit about their past campers and kids and things that people chat about on cool evenings in the campground.
Then I saw the tabby cat, sans leash, wander past us. She was quickly apprehended and releashed, and we chatted a little longer. Then, because cats are insanely tricky, she broke free again and this time decided she wasn’t going without a fight. Within a few minutes we went from having a nice chat to the four of us crawling around a large shrubbery looking for a decidedly freaked out cat. We surrounded the bush, which was actually three bushes grown into one, and making clucking noises and soothing here kitty sounds we hunted for their escapee. I spotted her in the middle bush but scared her off, then she reappeared in bush number three… kind of like a prickly shell game.
It almost worked, but she eluded us and shot out of bush number one, running across the campground with a rather older lady scooting after her. The rest of us stayed back, hoping not to scare her up a tree. It worked, and with minor clawing she was apprehended again and detained inside the motor home. This pretty well ended the chatting so we headed off, laughing at the fact that hunting for a cat in a shrubbery seems like something I would get us into.
Retracing our steps we headed back up row two, and ran smack into a talker. There’s one in every campground, the guy who always has a story to tell. They’re not to be confused with walkers, who you want to avoid at all costs because of the obvious face eating tendencies.
We’re standing there, talking to the talker, when a little silver car pulls up and just sits there. I think he was on the phone, but we didn’t know that at the time and he seemed to just be lurking there like a poorly planned drive by. He finally looked over and asked if we knew of a couple who had just sold a farm over on Blue Creek. Marty, who I’m sure wasn’t expecting the question from a random stranger in a Taurus, said the man might have to ask the owner. After a few seconds of intense thought I pointed out that we ourselves had just sold our house on Blue Creek Road.
As it turns out we were indeed the couple he was looking for, because I had spoken to him a few days before on the phone after posting our Kawasaki Mule for sale on Craigslist. I thought he had changed his mind, but it turns out he just lost my number, but did remember where I said we lived. I don’t just go around telling strangers where we live all willy nilly by the way, but he was a local, only living a couple of miles from the campground, and I didn’t tell him any details other than that we were here.
As we talked we learned that he had driven a school bus with Marty’s dad for years and knew him very well. He was a really nice guy, had been working for the local school district for 23 years, and was trying to convince his wife that he needed another toy to play with. We talked him into it and he’s supposed to bring us the money for the Mule and trailer today.
If it weren’t for the sewer fixing, pond scavenging, cat hunting adventure we had been on we would have already been inside when he pulled up at 8:15 at night, and no one would have known who he was looking for. We might have missed out on selling the Mule to a really nice guy, and having a funny story to tell. Add seeing a turtle and rabbit and I call that a good night, albeit not that unusual here.
Any funny campground stories of your own? I know they’re out there, because I’ve found we end up at least a few times a week in some situation we couldn’t have planned on. It really spices things up a little!