My Weekend at Camp

I spent the weekend at Club Getaway in the Berkshires this weekend with a bus load of adults from Manhattan as well as a caravan of cars winding down the country roads from all over the northeastern seaboard.

K and I were the youngest of the campers which made us quite the tasty treats in our bikini and red tennis dress, respectively. Compliments on my colored contacts abounded from men and women alike--I didn't have the heart to tell them that my real eyes were a far darker, duller reality.

I tried my hand at the trapeze and surprised myself by being more agile than I had ever expected--while I didn't so much as attempt the knee hang, I did swing for a few blissful seconds and manage a knee-tuck landing. K wasn't as enthused but gave it a good college try. The most nerve-racking aspect of the trapeze is the rickety climb up the metal ladder. As it quakes and clatters with every wrung you step up, you realize that whilst on the ladder itself there is no safety net below you. I felt my knuckles whiten and my grip tighten as I climbed up, up, and up to the gorgeous British boy who would put my harness and hold me back while the lovely dance instructor by day and trapeze artist by night held the swing for me. The best part of it was the fall. I'm not the most graceful woman--by any stretch of the imagination--that said I am also not a klutz, so the feeling of soaring was not nearly as sweet as landing without maiming myself or looking foolish.

I spent the majority of my day playing tennis: starting with the intermediate clinic, progressing to drills and skills, and finishing up with a serving clinic. My serve is distinctively better and my strokes have improved marginally. I met Jon at tennis and we set up a match for the following morning, unfortunately for him, he kept me out too late at the bonfire to see me at the courts the next day. He did stop by to write his number on a napkin and hand it to me before leaving camp to get to a softball game he couldn't miss back home in southern, CT.

K and I kayaked for the better part of an hour. Talk about an arm workout--sheesh. It's really relaxing sitting dry in a boat over still water which chops below the jetskiing populous as the motorboat whizzes past. I finally learned the technique to maximize speed in a kayak--it's all in the arc your oar makes. You paddle left to go right and vice versa--counterintuitive perhaps, but effective nontheless.

Saturday night we rode the mechanical bull. My thigh muscles lack the bull-gripping strength some of the other women brought to the table. This time around I was FAR worse than the 13 seconds I managed to stay on the thing on the Sunset Strip of LA in May. K was amazing--she lasted a full half minute on her first try. I didn't give it a second go, but did pose on a stationary bull for some sorority style shots. It was amusing to see 30 and 40-something men attempt the bull, they rode valiantly before being bucked gracelessly.

Sunday we spent sore and hungover, relaxing by the tiny strip of beach and sitting on the floating docks, drinking frozen pina coladas and daiquiris. We made a fistful of friends and a handful of memories at Camp Getaway. It was no Club Med, but a great weekend nevertheless.

I hope Tommy, the cute tennis instructor, e-mails us--I could use some work on my game...