I was walking down the incline leading to the restrooms. I’d been at the front of the parking lot putting self-pay envelopses into their holder, and now I was heading down to the restrooms to check the toilet paper supply.
I saw the woman open the restroom door, look inside and squeal with disgust. Look at that! she said to her male companion.
Oh no, I thought, imagining what the woman was seeing in there to cause such revulsion.
Where do you even wash your hands? the woman asked her companion in utter disbelief.
Theres no water here, I told the couple. No water in the campgrounds on this mountain either. That’s what the drought’s done. There used to be water here, but now the well’s dry.
The woman looked at me increduously. The fellow was grinning slightly.
What did you see in the restroom? I asked the woman. Did someone do something gross?
No, she said a little sheepishly. I was just being high maintenance.
I chuckled when she called herself high maintenance. She didn’t look high maintenance–no high heels, no elaborate makeup or fingernails or hairdo, no inappropriate-for-spending-time-in-nature clothing–but standing in the doorway or a restroom that’s not really dirty and making sounds of disgust does make a person seem high maintenance in my eyes.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my book Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. It’s all about my two seasons as a camp host and parking lot attendant at a very popular trailhead.