Howl at the mooooon

An hour has gone by and I am still sitting on my couch with my yellow fuzzy blanket. I have been toying with the idea to go to Carbondale to watch the eclipse. A friend posted that he was going down in his RV and did anyone want to go. I was thinking to just pack a bag but I missed my window with that ride. I’ll just go alone. I made a couple of inquiries online and waited. after hours of research I decided not to go, but to work instead. But I still had this strong pull to go. I’ve always been impulsive when it came to traveling. I have traveled alone many times and have never been afraid to go somewhere solo. Eat dinner alone, yes. Stay at the bathhouse alone, of course. Fly to NY over and over, no sweat...This doesn’t feel right the way I’m starting to tell you about my weekend. New start:

I finally pulled into the campground after the 6 hour drive from Deerfield. I’d finished two audio books on the way down to Southern Illinois. One of them being, “Many Lives, Many Masters.” It’s a book that usually helps people with the grief of loss. It talks about how we’ve all been in each other’s lives in one capacity or another and I truly believe it. I believe everything happens in its own time when it’s supposed to. You can’t rush it.  Whether you believe in G-d, Jesus, The Divine, The Universe, Buddha, or whatever you call your higher power, that is yours to have. I have always felt that there is definitely something out there that is greater than myself, we just use different names. Different ships all heading to the same port. Anyway, pulling into Moonstock, which is where I ended up claiming a tent site for the next few nights, there’s six cars behind me, and the 15 y/o signing people in looks like she’s about to cry.

“Well, we ran out of spots for the tents, but we’ll have to make some over there” She motions to an area that looks like it’s been uninhabited for a decade.  A young gun with blonde, curly hair tells me to follow him on the golf cart. I follow him around, looking at all of the RV’s and tents already in place, to the grasslands. I back my car in next to a married couple unpacking and looking just as thrilled as I am to be setting up camp on the Naked And Afraid side of the campground. I’m wearing flip flops. I always wear flip flops. I step out of the car and my foot sinks down about five inches under grass, weeds, about a gazillion black crickets all jumping across my skin, grasshoppers, mud, sand, scary monsters, and shit nightmares are made of. Fucking awesome. Now...I realize I am a delicate flower. I scream when I see a spider. I hate bugs. But I love camping. I love sitting around a fire, looking up at the stars, meeting new people. I push through the scared, and I lay down my tarps. I’m sure I was pitching my tent on an entire population of crickets but I told them I was sorry and appreciated the sacrifice they were making for me. I set up my tent in the 92 degree heat and 1000% humidity and thus began the buckets of sweat that emanated from my body that continued until Monday. I’m a lady. I glisten. I glow. Not this time. I was sweating like a whore in church to the point of where I just didn’t care anymore and would just wipe my sweat on my shirt looking like I was on Girls Gone Wild or something. I just wanted to have a bed. It was getting dark, so I went exploring. There was NOTHING to do. I walked around and was bored to death. Nobody was sitting talking or hanging out in groups having fun. And it seemed everyone that was there was already completely shitfaced. Nobody was friendly or making eye contact except one guy who so graciously asked me in the most sincere and wasted voice,

 “Hey, um, hey! Hi. Um, you wanna get high?”  Absolutely! I would also like you to take this hot poker and jam it into my eye because I think that would be just as safe.Maybe you dipped that in window cleaner. Are you fucking kidding me?

“No thanks, Honey. I’m good.” I smiled.

“Well I was just asking.” He seemed genuinely offended.

“Still good. Have a good one.” I think it’s very important to at least be polite to people who offer you their drugs. I read it in Emily Post chapter two.

By 8:30pm I was done. I walked back to the tent swinging my machete through the thick jungle where the married couple were sitting amidst the creatures with a fire ring.

“Hey, Robyn. Wanna come sit with us?” The wife asks

“No, thanks, though. I am just tired from the drive. I’m going to get in the tent where it’s safe and probably just go to sleep.”  How in the hell are they sitting outside and expect to have any skin left? I leap into my tent with my muddy shoes on and get into bed. There’s no way in hell I was going to leave my shoes outside the tent. I’d wake up and some fucking grasshopper would be hopping around wearing my converse and I’d have to get into an altercation. (Remember, Z, violence is never the answer) It is so humid that there is condensation dripping down from the top of the tent sounding like a drippy faucet in an old house.

Around maybe midnight a truck starts driving up and down the rows of our tents honking and men are yelling out the window, “Whoooo hoooooo!!!! Howl at the moooooon.”  Ok, it’s camping. No big deal. The guys who were on the other side of me have now come back and are complaining about how the grass isn’t mowed and the port-o-potties are already overflowing. I hear one of the men yell, “What the fuck are you doing, Dude? Get the fuck out of here. Oh...Oh...you wanna go? I will kick your fucking ass, you fucking fuck!” Now come on...there are so, so many words in the English language. There are many words that would’ve fit the situation, but apparently this was the only one that would do for the situation. Remind me not to play Madlibs with this guy...

“Ok, give me a noun.”

“Fuck.”

“And a verb?”

“Fuck.”

“Uh, ok. Name of someone in the room?”

“That fucking guy over there,”

“Perfect. “

Turns out the guy he was yelling at was Drunky McDrunkster-wanna-get-high-guy. And he was peeing on their site. They chase him off and I can hear the footsteps coming towards me.

“Hey...Hey, who’s in there?” Drunky asks

“Someone you don’t know!” I say in a very stern voice.

Chapter 2 of Emily Post’s book of etiquette can blow me. I am not really panicked because I knew there were people around me it was almost time for the truck to come back again with their, “Howl at the mooooon,” bullshit. Two more tents over is another couple that are yelling full voice at each other using many more words than just the Fuck Guy. I was very impressed. But it was loud. It’s now 3am and I’m praying that the Moon Howlers aren’t going to be so drunk that they run my tent over, the married couple for some reason are constantly getting up and walking to their car to get something and slamming the car door every time, the Fuck Guy is actually pretty funny and I’m enjoying listening to his stories as he tells his group and at some point made mention about the jungle we were in and how there were probably meat-eating hornets ready to pounce come dawn. 4am and the Howling Mooners are now just howling like wolves. A final drip of condensation drops onto my head and I make the decision to pack my shit as soon as the sun comes up. 6am I open the air mattress and it makes the WHOOOOOOSH noise. I put my wet shoes on and take the whole production down. I roll up my sopping wet tent and throw everything in the car. I don’t care if I have to drive all the way back home, I am getting the hell out of Satan’s living room and getting coffee. Bye Moonstock...It’s been real.  Beep, beeeeeeeeepppppp HOWL  AT THE MOOOOOOON!!!

I sit at the IHOP in Carbondale. I have nowhere to stay. All the hotels are filled. Airbnb people are asking $2500 for a single room for a single night. Wait. Is it a solar eclipse, or is the Messiah coming? I have coffee and a veggie omelette (because I am trying to be a vegetarian) and I scan my emails again. I send an email back to one of the local towns that had responded to me saying they had a space for me, but they were only having it for the Sunday-Monday and that’s why I’d ended up going to Moonstock, because I wanted to come down before that. I usually don’t use names in my blogs, just first letters, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing if I use partial names today to keep people straight. Min was my contact for the event that was happening in a small town about 20 minutes away from Carbondale. I called at 7am hoping someone would answer the phone there and I could find out if I had a place to go or if I’d be sleeping in the Walmart parking lot. Min answers and I am hoping she remembers me from my emails. I tell her about my Moonstock fail and ask if there’s still room for me.

“Oh sure! Come on over. We asked people not to come before 1, but I’m here. Just come and we’ll help you carry your stuff and set you up.” Sigh. Thank you, Universe for taking care of me.

“Awesome, I’ll be there soon.”

As I drive, I pass the sign for the town I’m going to. Population 400. I don’t think I have ever seen a number that small. I pull into the parking area where the Village Hall, the Fire Dept, the baseball diamond, and a table under a canopy where people are sitting. I put my window down and am greeted.

I wish I could make the story shorter, but there is just no way to do it. So much happened in those few days, that it’s almost hard to believe. The hospitality and small-town goodness that followed has completely restored my faith in people. I am a good person, I know that. That’s how I suck in all this crazy-goodness. But I am also a little cynical, too. I am not trusting like I used to be and tend not to believe people right off the bat. But this was different. It felt like I was safe and like I could rest. So, bullet points, I guess. Min lets me on to the ball field to set up my tent. Tells me her husband, daughter, and daughter’s bf will help me. “C’mon back up when you’re done and you can hang out with us under the tent if you want.” Min’s daughter, Z, helps me set up my tent. She’s fifteen and a pistol. She’s confident and naturally beautiful, looks me in the eye when she talks, and is respectful. I was impressed. Min’s husband, J, and Z’s boyfriend come and see if I need anything else. They take my mattress home to blow it up because I don’t have the right pump. I walk back up to where Min is sitting under the canopy with a big fan pointed at us. There’s an older man sitting with her with a baseball hat and a t-shirt on.

“Robyn, this is our Mayor.” I have been here 30 minutes and I’ve already met the mayor? Awesome.

I ended up meeting everyone who sits on the board of the town at some point. I met the old mayor, too. I sat up with Min and other people who would come in and out to help for pretty much the entire day. Zo would come up and I’d hear about what school was like for her with only 24 kids in her class. Every car that would drive by, an arm would come out to wave and we’d wave back. I’d leave and come back to go get food and a new person would be there to meet and they’d say,

“Oh! You’re that poor girl that went to Moonstock. I heard about that.” And now you have to hear the voces in a very soft southern accent. It’s not a hard drawl. It’s really soft on the ears and makes everything seem nice. It fit to go along with the personalities of the people I met.

“Jay, if you can’t find the pump, I’ll just run home and get mine,” one of the women said. It was so nice. Everyone is running around trying to find a pump to blow up my mattress and I was just happy I had somewhere to lay my head come nightfall. More people are checking in from all over to camp with us. Ohio, Maryland, Wisconsin. Families, Young people, locals, everyone setting up and each person was friendlier than the last. After hours of me sitting up there with Min and the board, Min tells me she has to run to the office and if anyone comes, I know what to do. “I got this.” Around 8pm Jay had set up a screen in the pavilion for everyone to watch a movie. I’m still up under the tent with people, shooting the shit and laughing at stories that we all exchange. There’s a man sitting across from me. He reminds me of an actor I’ve seen on tv. And every time he opens his mouth I have to stop him and say, “Wait, wait, wait...this is what I heard you say...” I’d repeat it back to him, and he’d say in his accent, “Yup, that’s what I said. We had to dive down to put floats on to get the houseboat that sunk, “ or, “Yes, he and I have the same father. His wife and I have the same mother. They’re not blood related at all, but I am to both of them.” I can’t tell you why, but I was just fascinated by this guy. He just seemed so comfortable in his own skin, you know? I’d listen to him talking about his business to the other men that were sitting at the table and he spoke like he really loved what he did. Man, he was a hell of a shit-talker. He could easily take it, though. I am so not doing JJ justice. Maybe later. I just liked him.

Z and her friends came up by us and the relationship she has with her mom is like mine with my girl. I wondered would she and my girl get along? I think they would because they have the same good qualities. They were all such good kids.

The movie ends, it’s late and now the lack of sleep is catching up to me. I say goodnight to everybody and get into my tent leaving my shoes outside the door. It’s quiet. All you can hear is the crickets, the cicadas and the whirring noise of my fan. The stars are brighter and I see them through the top of my tent. I say a prayer of gratitude for this day and all of the good there was and I drifted off to sleep.

There is no way I can finish this in one installment. I haven’t even gotten to the day of the eclipse. There was a biscuits and gravy breakfast for everyone so I paused my vegetinarianism for the meal. I had shaved ice in the unbearable heat. Min took me with her to run errands. How do I even tell you about the bar over the railroad tracks that is a hundred years old that we went into and had a beer with the Mayor at 10am quickly? I can’t. I think one day I will record my stories so you can hear it rather than read. I just don’t have the patience to finish this right now. I am absolutely beat. I still have to tell you about the eclipse and how amazing it was. How we all went to lunch afterwards:

“Are you sure you want me to come with?”

“Of course! Robyn, you’re family now. Get in the car.”

I didn’t get to the part where I found out Min and her husband are pretty much the surrogate parents to a lot of the kids and have helped out people in ways that made me honored to know them. Hearts of gold, I’m telling you. All of them. What a gift I was given this weekend.

I’m sorry to end here, I’m just so tired, but don’t want to let at least this part go unacknowledged. I will have a part two. I’m kinda hoping there will be a part three...they have karaoke once in a while at the bar and I hear it’s quite a night.

I like to end with songs that would be fitting for dance-breaks for my experiences. I’d have to say my picks for right now would be:

Howl At The Moon by Ozzy, of course

Here Comes The Sun by Nina Simone

Running On Faith by Eric Clapton

I am grateful for:

Tarps that keep the bugs out and the ground dry

Rides in weird cars that include tours of the city

Laughter...lots of it

Fans

Stories that are just too crazy to be made up

Vienna sausages in the can

Dog shampoo to get rid of turkey mites

Mac n cheese bites and fried pickles

Air conditioning

Lemon shakes

Population 400+1

Thank you for indulging me by reading this. I am so full of gratitude. I hope you find what you are grateful for tonight.