For Thursday, July 20, 2000 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 738 words
Eighty-sixed from 86 (part II)
So, Chad and I were sitting nervously by the campfire in Site 86 at Union Valley Reservoir in Crystal Basin on a Wednesday night, desperately trying to occupy four campsites in preparation for the arrival of 22 additional friends and relatives due to appear on Friday. We were in violation of surprise Rule 14 that states in small print that one must occupy one's campsite on the first night; here we were on the busiest weekend of the year, two desperados holding four sites. Out of the darkness came Ray, campground supervisor. He was about 35, thin, pointed chin and nose, with big eyes and ears.
"So, where are the rest of your people?" Ray asked again. We saw "Ray" on his nametag.
"Well, Ray," I started talking without any idea of what would come out. "They were supposed to be here, but they got delayed; then it got dark and traffic was terrible and we told them to wait until Thursday."
"To be safe," chimed in Chad. "We didn't want our loved ones on the road at night."
"Yeah, well," said Ray, hands on his hips, looking at the ground, "I have problems, too. I have a regular customer here from Oregon looking for a site, and I got you guys holding down four sites."
Every reason and excuse I had spilled out. "Geez, Ray, we've got twenty-two people coming, and your rule is in tiny print. We didn't even see it until we got here. A rule that important should be in huge letters, or a sign of its own. We put over three-hundred dollars in your no-refund box. If we were at a hotel we could rent out a whole floor and never show up. They wouldn't rent the rooms out from under us."
"This ain't no hotel," said Ray. "And it is the 4th of July. And there is a big sign."
"No, there isn't," we said. "Yes, there is," Ray said. "No, there isn't," we insisted. It turned out later that someone had torn down the sign, probably someone who wanted to beat the system and claim ignorance.
Now, the real Ray behind the badge revealed himself. "You guys know I could roll up two of your tents right now, but I'll make you a deal. If you will move out of eight-six, which is big enough for the motorhome and boat I've got waiting, and take that smaller site over there, ninety-one, we'll call it square."
We looked over at site 91. It had a tent on it and a cooler on the picnic table. "But, Ray," we protested, "that site is taken."
"Not for long," said Ray. "I'm about to roll that empty tent up because that idiot is doing the same thing you guys are doing. He hasn't been here for two days. He pulled in on Tuesday, dropped his gear, and went home. He didn't even try to make his site look lived in. If you're going to b.s. me, you better do a good job of it. You guys did a pretty good job. You spread stuff around. You fooled me on my last round. But, you see, at night, I dress all in black and sneak around the campground and check out these empty-looking sites. I shake tents and make animal noises, and I come by again just before dawn so I don't have to hear the old fisherman's excuse, 'I got in late, and went fishing in the morning.'"
Ray, it turned out, took his job very seriously. He was proud of his diligence and his midnight ninja tactics, but also wanted to be known as a nice guy, willing to bend a rule if you were also a nice guy back to him.
We very much wanted to be Ray's friends. "Sure, Ray, we'll move. That's fine. We understand. You've got a busy job here. We just want to help. Whatever you need, Ray. Want a beer?"
"Naw, I don't do that anymore. You guys move first thing tomorrow. I've got a temporary spot for the motorhome tonight."
Ray slipped off into the darkness, no doubt to don his ninja blacks and search out other violators of Rule 14.
"Honey, wake up. Is that a bear sniffing around our tent."
"No, it's just Ray. Go back to sleep."
Ninja or not, however, we had not seen the last of Supervisor Ray.
(to be continued…)