I’ve been thrown out of two places in my life: a leather dyke bar in Provincetown, Massachusetts, because I wasn’t butch enough; and just tonight, the campground I’ve been staying in on and off since February. My crime: complaining to the manager because my camp furniture had been removed from my campsite; and when they claimed they hadn’t removed them, then I reported my possessions as stolen.
Tonight as I came in to pay for my reservation, they informed me that I was no longer welcome because I had “made a scene.”
I don’t think asking to speak to the manager because one’s personal effects have disappeared really counts as “making a scene.” Especially since this was the second time things of mine have “disappeared” at this campground. The first time I also reported it, and got blank stares for an answer. This time the blank stare treatment really got to me, because you’d think they would care if their paying customers were losing their camp furniture. So I said I wanted to speak to the manager, who shrugged and said she didn’t know what had happened to my things.
I tried to think of other reasons they might want to get rid of me. Maybe it’s because I always pick up after my dog. Maybe it’s because I’m very quiet, am rarely seen aside from taking long walks with same dog, never play music except with headphones, and don’t make trouble except for when my zero gravity lounge chair and a whole load of laundry disappear.
It would have been nice if they hadn’t waited till I came in, after dark, to tell me I’ve been banned. I had to scramble to find a place to park my van for the night. It’s too late to go up to the forest, so I have to make do with the truck stop. It’s usually OK to park overnight at Wal-Mart, but not here. Fortunately there’s a truck stop an easy drive away. Very, very noisy, but any port in a storm. Time to break out the earplugs…
This is very inconvenient, at this particular moment in time, because I have to make my special oat matzahs for the Passover Seder tomorrow night. I was planning to make them on my portable grill tomorrow morning. Cooking in the truck stop parking lot is considered poor truck stop etiquette (!), so I will have to figure out something else. Maybe one of the marijuana dispensaries will let me get my matzahs baked in their parking lot! Just kidding. Sort of.