Page 49 of Perfect Mess

Gary introduced us. “Mary, this is Karen, Karen, this is Mary.” Gary stepped back, as if he had just combined potassium chlorate and sulfuric acid and was waiting for the explosion.

Karen was wearing one of those mom hats, with the mom visor. She also wore mom shorts. Mom shoes. And a mom shirt. A fanny pack strapped around her waist completed the ensemble.

Karen stuck out her hand. I shook it firmly. The smile on her face never moved.

“Karen is the other chaperone in our group,” Gary explained.

“This is my daughter Cary.” Cary stared at me unimpressed, the same look I got from Purrfect. “Which one is your son or daughter?” Karen asked.

“None of them, thankfully. I don’t have any kids. I’m just along for the ride.”

It took Karen a moment to process this news. “Lovely.” Karen said the word ‘lovely” but the tone in her voice suggested something else entirely. Still, the smile never moved.

“Okay everyone, who’s ready to start exploring!” Ranger Sarah had pulled out her megaphone, a sound strategy if she had any hope of being heard over the cacophony of noise. Even better than a whistle. A cheer erupted from the children. A groan erupted from the adults.

As we made our way toward the exit, I pulled Gary aside. “Remember, you and I need to talk.”

“Plenty of time along the way,” Gary reassured me.

As we stepped outside, Ranger Sarah handed us orange T-shirts that matched the ones the campers were wearing. “So we know who’s in our group. You can change in the restrooms around the corner.”

“Great!” said Karen.

“Great!” I said. Although I tried, I couldn’t quite match Karen’s zeal.

* * *

After changinginto our new T-shirts, I joined Karen in front of the bathroom mirror. I squinted a bit, like when you peek at an eclipse, just in case the bright orange color seared my retinas.

“These shirts suck,” I said.

“What did you just say?” Karen furrowed her eyebrows.

“These shirts.” I pinched the material near my shoulders. “They suck,” I said again.

Although I didn’t mean to offend her, the look on Karen’s face made it clear she took it as a personal affront. “No, they don’t.”

“But they do.”

“They do not.” Karen gave me a look like I had just farted on a crowded elevator and then pressed the emergency stop button.

“They literally say suck.” I pointed at our reflections. Our bright orange shirts had the letters “S.U.K.C” emblazoned in neon yellow straight across the breast.

“That stands for Summer Ultimate Kids Camp,” Karen explained.

“That may be what it stands for,” I said, “but that’s not what it says.”

Karen and I stood quietly for several moments, reflecting on our reflections. I could tell Karen was trying to come up with a way to refute reality, but was coming up blank.

Finally Karen said, “We should join the others. I’m sure the kids are anxiously waiting.”

“I’m sure.”

We left the bathroom to join the anxiously waiting kids.

* * *

Throughout human history,there have been many grueling journeys filled with human suffering and strife. In 1521, Ponce de Leon trekked through alligator infested Florida swamps, battling the heat and humidity while searching for the Fountain of Youth. In 1804, Lewis and Clark marched 8,000 miles to the Pacific Ocean, traversing treacherous mountains and rivers, faced with deadly illness and dangerous wildlife. In 1846, members of the Donner Party’s tragic expedition endured blizzards and starvation, trapped in the Sierra Nevadas, ultimately forced to resort to cannibalism to survive.

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