I hate bugs!
My family camped frequently when I was growing up. We camped weekends, holidays, and vacations. As a family we camped mostly in the summer in a pop up camper. We camped mostly in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Minnesota. We camped where there were horse flies, house flies, mosquitoes, gnats, and any other flying insects.
I hate bugs. The ones that crawl and the ones that fly. I think I always have. When we camped, the bugs were everywhere. But there were things I could do to get away from the bugs, or so I believed.
I wore bug spray, lots of it. I kept my arms and legs covered when I could. I swam (the flying bugs didn’t like the water, or so it seemed). I learned other tricks for getting away from the bugs. But most importantly, I always knew where the fly swatters were. (Tall cabinet at the end of the camper hanging at the far side.)
When the bugs would get inside the camper, it would drive me up the wall. At least during the day, one could usually get the bugs back outside. But at night, no such luck.
Camping evenings meant card games or board games. There would sometimes be a small fire for roasting marshmallows and making s’mores. Usually, families from surrounding campsites would come visit us or we would go to their campsite.
Frequently, a Coleman lamp would be set up away from the table. Bugs would follow the light and leave us somewhat alone. Bug spray was used liberally on all of us to keep from getting bit. But the most important part of the insect battle was the fly swatters.
When dinner was over, one of the flyswatters would be brought from the cabinet to the campsite. It would get hung where everyone could find it quickly. It wasn’t used on the bugs much, but it was there. It made me believe I could get rid of some of the bugs before bedtime.
A couple of hours later, my younger sister would be the first to head to bed. My mother would take her inside the camper to get ready for bed. She didn’t care about the bugs as much (or didn’t seem to care as much). She would crawl into bed and fall asleep.
An hour later, it was my turn to get into PJs. I would get an extra spray down with bug spray and my mother would head back outside. Once she went back outside, it was reading time. Flashlight in hand, I would lay in my bunk and read for a bit. A few minutes after laying down, the quiet buzzing from the bugs would start.
First I would try to swat the bugs away with my hand or with the fly swatter — not very successfully. I would shift around so the flashlight was pointing across my book and out into the camper, thinking that would get the bugs to go away. But within minutes, buzz buzz buzz… Back would come the flies and mosquitoes.
I hated the biting bugs, but they loved me. Or rather, they loved the taste of me. I seemed to always be their favorite meal. Even when I was doused in bug spray. Even when there were lights attracting them away.
Eventually, I would give up on reading and turn off the flashlight. I would reach for the fly swatter and try to kill a few of them in the dark. Without my glasses, I couldn’t see them. All I could do was swat at the places I thought they were. A few hits on the screens or the canvas of the camper and my folks would yell over to me, “Don’t wake up your sister!”
You would think the bugs would move away at that point, but I can never remember them going away. I would get bit and bit and bit.
A bit later my older sister would come in and get ready for bed. I would always hope the bugs would head to her end of the camper when she turned on her flashlight to read. They never seemed to head that way. They liked me too much, I guess.
Finally, my folks would come to bed. Off would go all the lights. And then the fun would stop. The bugs that had been flying around me would head to the other end of the camper to my mother. She seemed to be the only one they liked more than me.
One of them would pick up the fly swatter and bang away trying to get rid of the beasts. Whap Whap Whap. Sometimes the door would open for a moment in hopes some of the bugs could get swished out.
On and on the whapping would go for 15 or 20 minutes with them trying to get rid of as many of the bugs as possible. But it never made much difference.
Every morning my mother and I would wake up with new bug bites. Welts all over our bodies. They would itch like mad, until they were covered or dosed with cream. The fly swatter would go back on its hook. Then it was time to get ready for another day. A day of swimming, playing, exploring, and experiences beyond expectations.
I hated the bugs. I still do. The fly swatter? I tried to always know where one was at bed time. And every day, I decided to do SOMETHING to get rid of the stupid bugs!
(This is based on my memories. Others in my family may remember the events differently.)
