Church Camp: Achieved.

...Stealing church internet to do a fantasy draft and post this (I don't yet have internet at the house. Sure, it's already been almost a month)...

As I sit here in a world without internet or television, I am greeted by a wonderful alternative to unpacking boxes full of crap that I never should have owned in the first place… telling the world (or the 4 of you reading) about church camp.

Sure, you might think I’m a little old for church camp. If I were a camper, you’d be right. But instead, I get to be a counselor. Yep, a bunch of adults who can still remember the shenanigans they pulled as campers are now put in a position to guide the youth of America and, theoretically, prevent current generation shenanigans. We’ll see how that worked out…
If you’re reading this looking for literary flow, you will be disappointed - Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Overall, it was a very calm week as far as the kids were concerned. No complaining. No injuries. Generally good attitudes. And a lot of them really took the spiritual aspects seriously. As far as the staff: One concussion. One twisted ankle. One “boxer’s fracture”. One broken leg. And two pedestrians hit by a motor vehicle. We had generally good attitudes and took the spiritual aspects seriously too, though. On to the highlights…

We go to camp at Taylor Christian Camp, located in Scottsville, Kentucky. Maybe you’re familiar with it. Maybe you know where Scottsville is. Maybe you know how to use Google maps well enough to figure out where Scottsville is. Or maybe you’re a Scottsville resident – If that’s the case and Jan of “Jan’s Bookkeeping and Tanning Salon” is reading this, kudos, Jan: your willingness to provide the perfect combination of necessary personal services to generations of Kentucky’s finest is, in a word, inspirational.

Taylor doesn’t have a pool, but we’ve got a creek. One of our staff members decided it would be a good idea to ride his mountain bike down the hill leading to the creek, grab the ropeswing, and jump off his bike into the creek water below, avoiding the drop off and certain face-plant that awaited him if he missed the rope. As I’m not too good on a bike and generally try to avoid drowning while unconscious from smashing my head into rocks, I volunteered to hold the rope…

Surprisingly, it was a semi-success. Both rider and bike ended up in the water without any blood. No spectacular stunt was pulled off the rope, but the execution was achievement enough.
Let’s see what else happened… In order to thwart the freaking out of any parents reading this, the following was done only after all parties involved were ensured that all minors were in a location far enough away to where they had no idea what was going on. We have a six foot diameter blue ball at camp. We use it to play a game where six teams each send out one person at a time to try to push the blue ball back to their team and knock over a cone. However, for as long as I can remember, the object of the game is to run at the ball at top speed and see who flies the furthest.

Well, in order to fulfill the wish of a camper who had to leave early due to our summer camp being in the fall and school starting in the middle of the week, two of the staff members agreed to take a free shot from the big blue ball. Upon review, it was determined the maximum amount of force that could be applied to the ball for said free shot would be applied by a Dodge Ram 1500. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum agreed to the truck shot. I’ve never been more scared and excited about the same moment. Naturally, we practiced this before the actual event. And just as naturally, the truck ended up going significantly faster in the actual event than it did in practice. Truck hit ball. Ball hit staff. Staff hit ground. Ball hit truck. Ball hit fallen staff. Truck bumper comes to rest within reach of staff. Silence ensues. Staff member A makes a noise and moves. Staff member B responds with noise and movement of his own. Hilarity ensues because, after all, any time something so incredibly stupid happens and no one gets seriously injured, it instantaneously achieves the highest standard of humor.

Don’t worry though, Staff member A went down the slip-n-slide the next day, got his pinky caught in a small tear on the billboards being used as the slick surface for sliding, and broke a bone in his hand. When I later pointed out the obvious that he got hit by a truck without any problems yet let his pinky send him to the hospital, I asked if he told the doctor he’d been hit by a truck. “No. Are you kidding? That didn’t come up.”

Tune in next time as we transition from the physical to the intellectual side of the TCC 2010 Story Vault.