Oh man, Hunter’s got a SUMMER CAMP story!
A poorly adjusted autistic teenager, packed in a bus with a church group who rarely talked to him, going to a camp more than three states away.
What could go wrong?
Folks, I hate to disappoint, but the camp story is boring.
It was uneventful.
I didn’t embarrass myself, didn’t fall off a zip line, never had someone stick a lobster down my swim trunks, didn’t sit on a vaseline-covered toilet seat, and didn’t melt down in an awkward, autistic mess.
After a week of camp, my family came to pick me up and drive me back home.
I was elated – nothing went terribly wrong, and I felt like I got along and went along with everything that went on, so I babbled on during the car ride back home.
As we drove, I noticed my folks taking a different way home.
“Mom’s got to handle something at work,” Dad said, as we drove onto the nearby Navy base.
So on we drove, keeping on in conversation, when I noticed something in the distance.
“Oh, look! That person has a New Beetle just like Mom’s—”
At that moment, they all (all six of them) shouted:
My family literally moved houses while I was gone for the week.
Up and relocated without me knowing.
On the plus side, at least they came to get me.
I did have my own room there.
Did I have an awful, abject, autistic meltdown and weeping fit?
And did I ever go back to summer camp?