The secret lives of camp counselors

I don't know why but recently I have been recalling the two summers that I worked at Camp Lutherwood
What I remember most were the times when the kids had left after Fridays and the counselors would decide what they would do for their day and a half off. Sometimes I would need some good home time and have my parents pick me up. Other times I would stay up at camp just chilling with everyone watching movies, staying up late swapping stories of the past week with their campers, etc.

This one weekend, my friends Scuttles and Poppins (camp names people-mine was Toro) decided that we wanted to go to Canada. From camp it usually took about an hour and half to get to Vancouver B.C. We left camp at 6:00pm and didn't get into Vancouver until 8:30. Border control took forever. We didn't know where we were going to stay, so we drove around Vancouver until we found a hotel that looked like a decent place to stay. We get into the room and it looked like a prison cell with Thomas Kincade "art" on the wall. There even was a stove in the room, just in case the lodgers couldn't take it anymore.
So there we were, Scuttles, Poppins, and me, three early 20-something women in a pretty scary hotel in Canada. You may be wondering what on earth did we did from there. Well, we washed our feet.
After a week of camp-where people don't get to bathe on a normal basis unless your Vitale-your feet can end up looking pretty bad. We're talkin' hobbit feet. All of us decided to take turns in the bathtub to wash our feet because there wasn't enough room for all three of us to fit in the little bathroom- the size of a closet. All of us took turns bathing our feet in the tub before we went to bed.
We woke up the next morning and knew we had to leave ASAP from this scary little room. The walls were closing in. As we opened the door to go to the car we finally saw where we were staying. Last night the darkness cloaked the seedy undertones of the surrounding neighborhood. In the morning light, however, we got to see Vancouver in all it's grittiness. We turned to one another and quickly hopped into the car, locked the doors, and the Bonneville sped away from that place as quickly as we had found it the night before.

As we got back into Bellingham, Scuttles and I pulled over and got some cigars. Poppins wasn't and still isn't a cigar smoker. We bought a couple of stogies and sat down near the water to watch the sunset on Sat. night. Although the night before was complete madness, this was a great way to end our weekend. Watching the sun go down over the Puget Sound smoking a cigar talking about life mentally preparing ourselves for the upcoming week.