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Summer Camp: The Best (Or Worst!) Eight Weeks Of Your Life

Illustration for article titled Summer Camp: The Best (Or Worst!) Eight Weeks Of Your Life

My summer camp nemesis was a wiry, thin-lipped, sneering eleven-year-old I'll call Hannah. Hannah attended an elite Manhattan prep school and decided early on during our stay in upstate New York that I was a hick. She taunted me endlessly for my lack of sophistication; for example, I didn't know what "peckerhead" meant, which apparently illustrated my state of overall loserdom and gave her a reason to use the word against me for the rest of the summer. [What DOES peckerhead mean? -Ed.] Even worse, I had to bunk with Hannah and her best friend, giving both the opportunity to be cruel to me in various overt and passive ways, like ignoring our morning cleaning ritual and leaving me to clean the entire cabin without them. (That lasted for at least a week until our counselor found me crying on the floor in a heap of their Benetton sweatshirts.) But I'm not the only one who experienced a Lord of the Flies-ish summer camp experience! In today's NY Observer, recently-wed writer Spencer Morgan writes about his experiences at camps as far-flung as Canada, and he doesn't skimp on sordid details, like his run-in with "raw" anus.

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Maybe Spencer and I should have hit up the camps chronicled in the just-released Camp Camp, a book described as a "love letter to summer camp and history of our generation, a chance to relive every Champion sweatshirt-wearing, accidental bed-wetting, sky-hook-wedgie-receiving, tie-dye-making golden moment"; after all, it must be nice for those people who created lifelong bonds while treading water in some remote, silty lake. But back to my camp experience! The other day, it emerged that a friend of a friend is close with the dreaded Hannah and the acquaintance asked me what my last name was, so she could report back to my former nemesis. I refused to tell her, because some small part of still believes that if Hannah remembers me, she will hunt me down and egg my apartment after convincing all my friends that I smell of feet. Not that I'm still traumatized by camp or anything!

Notes On Camp [Observer]

Camp Camp [Official Website]

Camp Camp

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onthecornerofparkerandwoolf
onthecornerofparkerandwoolf

i never went to camp,(hated the outdoors) but i did end up working at a day camp for five summers (in the office, as i still hate the outdoors). one summer, we had a group of 12 year old boys who were, in short, holy terrors. so one night on the weekly sleepover they started talking about *pranking* camp, so their counselor and i encouraged them. that night, we *snuck out* with them, and toilet papered a bunch of stuff— only to get *caught* by our bosses (the hardest part of the whole thing was not laughing at the boys terrified faces). the camp directors told the boys that the ONLY way they wouldn't call their parents is if they cleaned everything up and behaved themselves for the rest of the week. since i had the rest of the week off, they told them i was fired and their counselor was on probation.

they were little angels the rest of the week.