Last night I kind of got the appeal of boondocking. It's not just finding beautiful scenery or convening with nature. Boondocking like we did last night gave us PEACE AND QUIET.
We were sardine canned into that last RV park. As I said, I hit someone's awning as I drove in because there were large RVs crammed into limited space spilling out into the road. We couldn't open the door of the SUV without hitting our RV steps. We had to bend our side mirror in or the people in the RV next to us would bump it as they came out of their RV.
Being so crammed in there meant that every conversation came into your space. People were extremely inconsiderate. They thought nothing of having an outdoor powwow at 2am. Because all these RVs around them were just empty buildings, apparently. Not homes filled with people TRYING TO SLEEP!! More than once I slammed my window shut loudly to give some inconsiderate jerks a hint.
But voices weren't the only source of noise. Fricking motorcycles. Loud. Beat up. And with riders who loved to rev rev. I guess having a loud noisy thing between their legs helped make up for other short comings. There was a note posted on the doors of the restrooms saying that people needed to get mufflers for their horribly loud motorcycles. As if that helped. The noise wasn't only during the day, but at night. Sometimes very late. I was flabbergasted at how inconsiderate these people were. No one else existed except for them. They had to be raised in barns or something. I just don't get it.
Then of course, there was the drama. Not just the domestic violence in the RV right next to us, that required us to call the police, but screaming fights all the time. Often spilling into the street. We saw two women beating each other with clenched fists and trying to knock each other down in the middle of the narrow road. They were fighting over 'dope' because one of the girls kept screaming about it. It took meth-lab Harry (my name for a horrible mean old jerk who appeared to have a meth lab in his RV) to come out and scream obscenities at them to make the fight stop.
Okay, Meth-Lab Harry. He was often washing a tupperware container full of stuff outside with a hose, guarding it carefully, not wanting anyone to see what he was cleaning. His RV REEKED of paint thinner. He had people coming at all hours of the day for 15 second visits, and, here's the clincher, HIS RV HAD A CHIMNEY. Meth lab? Yeah, probably. Besides the fact that he was putting that horrible stuff out on the street, he was just a HORRIBLE person. He berated his wife constantly. They sometimes had shout fests, but usually it was just him telling her to shut her f**king mouth. He was also yelling at everyone with dogs to, 'Shut that f**king dog up.' And he kicked a girl out of another guy's RV (I don't get the situation, but apparently he had power over this other guy) and when she tried to come back, because she was made homeless, he said, and I quote: 'You don't f**king live here anymore, bitch! Get over it!' And slammed the door in her face. Meth Lab Harry has a reckoning coming, and I will not shed a tear when he's taken down.
So, last night we were in this BLM land. A half mile from the highway. Nothing but mountains and clouds. Complete solitude and peace. Oh Lord...last night was just what my spirit needed.
No comments:
Post a Comment