Don't Tell My Daughter I Did This — The Junior Staff Birthday Party
13 summer camp staff, some booze, and a lake equal a life lesson
In the early 1970s, I worked at a summer camp in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The camp staff consisted of thirteen junior staff, ages 17 to 20, and ten staff members aged 21 and up.
We started camp in early June and we were ready for a staff party on our day off by July. We decided we would celebrate Jay's birthday with alcohol. I was seventeen, about to turn eighteen a few weeks later. My experience with drinking at the time was limited to beer or table wine at home. My parents were somewhat liberal. They felt that if they did not introduce me to alcohol in a safe environment, someone would introduce me to it in a less secure environment. They had already raised two children ahead of me.
Alcohol was not allowed in camp at any time in any form. The various staff over the years found to have alcohol in the camp were immediately fired and sent home.
The party organizers decided the ideal location was a private artificial reservoir four miles south of the camp. It was secluded, not likely to attract the attention of the sheriff's patrol. Avoidance of the law was necessary because the state minimum drinking age was 19. Most of the junior staff were 17 and 18.
There was great anticipation a week before the party. Organizers took alcohol orders for beer, wine, and liquor.
At last, the big day arrived. Standard end of the camp week routines were done. By 10 am, campers had left on their busses to return home. The staff then had various day-off chores like laundry to do before the evening festivities.
As afternoon became dusk, the junior staff gathered at the parking lot to go to the party. The party would start after dark to provide the proper ambiance and be less noticeable. I'm not sure we were less visible with a bonfire raging.
The party was a massive success if getting drunk was the goal. An entourage of senior staff arrived at the lake at about 9 pm. This group included the Assistant Camp Director and three Program Directors. Somehow they had anticipated sober drivers would be needed to get the staff back to camp.
Usually, program staff sleep in their quarters on the hill, but that night we all slept in tents in the headquarters area. That's a good thing because I could barely stand. There was no way I could have walked a quarter mile up the road to the trail going up the side of the mesa.
The following day, the regular Sunday routine went like this. There would be an 8:00 am staff breakfast in the dining hall, followed by a non-denomination church service in the barn converted to classrooms. At 10:00, we'd meet the buses at the parade ground for camper check-in. After that, we'd take our groups to the barn for orientation.
I suppose that is what we did the morning after the party. I don't remember much of that morning, now or then. I was so sick at both ends. I was commode hugging drunk hungover and had the rip-roaring runnies. The night before, I drank some unfiltered lake water in addition to having beer and rum. Incredibly, I didn't land in the hospital.
I've been told I draped myself over the podium while conducting my portion of the camper orientation. My program manager thankfully excused me from the rest of the day's responsibilities. However, my overindulgence in the festivities cost me my next day off.
That was certainly a life lesson I've never attempted to repeat.
I've wondered why the senior staff allowed the party to happen over the years. Had the Camp Director or Assistant Director told me not to go, I would have stayed in camp. I suppose they allowed us to make mistakes in a relatively controlled environment. Hard lessons learned early prevent hard falls later.
Now, remember, don't tell my daughter I did this. I don't want her to get ideas or think that I was young once.