RV People: An Essay

I think he’s got us pegged – except the wealthy thing!

I'm Trying to Write.

The man inside the stall was humming. Loudly.

It wasn’t just a casual kind of hum, either — something to distract from the awkward silence of two men using the restroom, one of whom was brushing his teeth and the other of whom was dropping some kids off at the pool. No, this was a bright, boisterous humming that struggled to break out into a full musical number. If a brass section had kicked in from one stall down, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I casually mentioned this washroom warbler to my companions upon returning to our campsite:

“I mean, he was really going for it,” I told them, providing my own wild, rhythm-less rendition of his song, adding impolite noises where appropriate.

“I guess he was just a happy guy,” Amy suggested, but I could tell from the uncertain look in her eye what she was thinking because I…

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2 thoughts on “RV People: An Essay

  1. Oh my goodness! An RV Person found me!

    But seriously. I want one. For the time being, my wife and I are having to make do with a Coleman four-person tent and my Pontiac Vibe. Together, those things are kind of like an RV. Sort of. Frown.

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