Summer Camp

Now each polygon can have triangle caved into it with the tip of each triangle being in the center. You can think of these extra triangles added in as the side dishes. Those are extra activities that the client indicated. A lot of people had plain single color hexagons. I feel a little flustered about the yellow triangle in my tattoo. Yes, I like to get pissed on. Everyone I'm going to meet at camp will right away know that I love cowering on the ground in a puddle of pee while getting a stream hitting my face. Or that's the image that is probably going through their mind. But we are all open minded here.

That woman in the second row, she had every possible color filled in as a triangle. I mean. It was obscene to imagine that she had gotten the preference form and straight up drawn a line from the top of the page to the bottom to select all the yes boxes in one go. She was going to get destroyed in so many ways.

Now the character in the tattoo, called the avatar, is the personality preference. On the most basic, some people are more submissive and others are more dominant. Some people are more playful. Some people are more serious. Some people are very inappropriate and can't get enough of crassness. It provides a staff with a quick reading of how to approach someone. The woman in the second row, who morphed into a goddess of awe in my mind, had an avatar woman with six arms. Each arm held another grizzly ornament a decapitated skull, a blood tripping axe, and just wow! I recognized her as the Hindu deity Kali, the destroyer.

To top it all off, that woman was a tiny Asian! She was barely five feet tall. Her frame was tender. She appeared very shy and had a very plain face. She was deeply immersed playing a game on her phone with both thumbs. She had been too shy to strike up a conversation with her seat neighbor and to look around the bus. When the bus driver had wished her a welcome, she had looked at the floor in embarrassment and a fire red head. Trying to reconcile what that tattoo said with that shy mousy personality and tiny body was just wow!

If you are a guy reader, you can hold your horses. She didn't look like an anime girl with big exotic features and a European look. She didn't look like a geisha all dolled up. She had very Chinese features, very thin lips, tiny eyes, and flimsy hair. She'd be considered fresh off the boat with a look that Westerners pass over. Her hips had something chunky and hard cornered to them. She had her own story, not your fantasy.

Despite all of the body toning and high end fashion, all these women had something square to the round hole of the typical feminine pretty. The tall dirty blond across the aisle from me had something massive about her. Her shoulders were wide. She was big. There was a bit of body fat, but she also looked fiercely in shape. I had overheard from her conversation that she was a financial controller for a world class corporation with a familiar brand name that she couldn't mention. Her clothes were exquisitely chosen, yet she wore them with a body posture that showed an utter disregard. 99% certain, a wardrobe consultant picked the clothes for her with much skill. There was this huge disconnect between how she held herself and how mind-blowing the clothing was selected and combined into an outfit with rare accessories.

If I were in a bar brawl, I'd want her on my side. Despite her baby fat, she had a strength underneath it like a farmer who can carry hay bales all day. In fact, she did seem like a girl growing up on a farm happy to chase bird and pigs only to be uncomfortably stuffed into a dress. She'd probably win against most average Los Angeles guys. They tend to cry after the first bloody punch to the nose. She looked like she'd keep going like a machine after getting black and blue all over and the blood running and flinging everywhere. There was something good natured and warm about her like her biggest joy is to feed a clutch of chicks and watch them peck, yet at the same time, she is intimidating like I wouldn't ever mention a wrong thing to unleash her other side.

I'm sure that she got teased everywhere she got, and I'm dead certain she stopped it on the first day.

What draws me to love someone is to see their vulnerabilities. She sat big. She took up space. She nodded her head like she knew everything exactly. Yet in little moments, there was this big worry running across her face. It would start in her eyes like a little widening, revealing a little more white. Then her cheeks would twitch, and this absolutely distressed mouth stance was about to happen. She'd catch herself and fall back into her power facial expression that she held. That's where I caught her. She couldn't relax enough to let her emotions and feeling percolate to the surface of her face. Only the trained facial expression of being in charge made her feel comfortable. When that little worry rushed across her face, I wonder if she was worried how to let her walls down to create an emotional and warm bond with the other women. We are all here for one thing even though we may seek it in a million different shapes.

I've met people like here. There was such poverty behind the façade. They didn't know how to cry in another woman's arms. They loved every moment of being in a love cocoon of intimacy, but they were as clumsy as a baby on its first attempts to walk. I had a feeling that she was searching for that but didn't know how to get there. I imagined that she never got to peace with sometimes being a little humiliated or called out. Real relationships aren't perfect. There is that give and take of stepping on someone's toes and plain messiness. If we'd all toe our boundaries and respect perfectly, we'd be very lonely. The coming back after having some kind of defeat or slight is what keeps relationships from ending on the first chance. If you've ever seen a lion cub climb on the nose of its dad or swat momma when she wants to sleep, but the parent lion let the cub be anyway, you get forgiveness of messiness that's important to relationships.

It's those stories in my head that draw me into people. Her conversation about commodity future strategies surely didn't endear me to her. Would she hum like a baby if I'd caress her hair along her temples on a cozy evening?

The scenery changed and revealed a hill. The dirt road carved down the hill. The hillside was covered with terrace rice paddies. The arrangement was extremely picturesque. One might be forgiven for being drawn into the beautiful sight with little bridges, water oxen pens, and ceremonial alters. Yet there was an absence of workers, which was almost eerie once one noticed like a ghost town or a horror movie where everyone had been killed. The obvious explanation is that this is essentially a big theme park for rich people and not an actual farming operation. They did do a marvelous job creating the ultimate out in the country rice paddy fantasy.

At the bottom of the hill was a small clutter of indigenous yurts. They had an African flair to them. On the other side of the village was an African themed agricultural area. The soil of the dirt path was bright red. There were bushy what seemed to be ripe berries. In the distance was what seemed to be cotton fields. An idyllic creek meandered through the village. There were plenty of little chill stations around the village. There were hammocks with beautiful patch blankets and colorful gas lights. There pillow forts of Arabian fabric under soft clothes canopies. There was a little picnic table with a basket of yoga mats, yoga blocks, and straps. What made my heart beat a little faster was at the edge of the village. The privacy curtains and the plumbing was unmistakable an outdoor shower. The beauty of taking a shower on beautifully stained hardwood floor with birds singing and the sun light breaking through the tree cover was a romantic country dream come true. Noticing the breeze fluttering the privacy fabric and waving it butt high sent tingles to my heart. I'd get to cop some good, wet gazes. I'd probably get a good blush in my cheeks when I knew that I'd be exposed for a second during a gust. Every little detail of this five digit vacation was attended to and designed. They had chosen the fabric weight just right and the location just teasing enough for a little wind to blow.

The bus cut another corner, and the village opened up in front of us. The yurts had a little wooden platform with stairs little up. Most had a little porch with rocking chairs or benches. The yurts themselves were round with plastic windows cut into the canvas fabric. Beyond the front row of yurts were proper buildings. The buildings didn't fit into the living in a rural, primitive village so well, yet their size was probably needed for functions like cooking and special events. Beautiful flowers and plants were everywhere. The sweet aroma in the air of all the flowering was delicious. Plants were chosen to attract butterflies and small birds. There was a pretty flutter going on. I could tell that none of the plants attracted bees. The resort designers were probably concerned about the guests with bee sting allergies.

The bus pulled up to a line of tables with black boxes. Three staff members were waiting at attention. They were all female. They were wearing colorful native African dresses with plenty of fabric. They had their hair twisted top of their head and wrapped in fabric. Unlike the primitive farmers that they pretended to be with their dress and bare feet, they stood at attention with their hands cross behind their back.

The bus driver pulled down the microphone from the roof: "Ladies, we are at our final destination. Please, leave all your valuable and purses with the staff. You'll find a mini safe. Place your purse and cell phone inside. Enter a four digit PIN code and press the key button. Only you will be able to open the safe at the end of your trip."

"You won't find a dusty introduction speech. Simply go out and explore the village. Everything is included in your package. Simply take any clothing in the fashion store. The storekeeper will have a vanilla envelope handy for you to put your own clothes inside. They will be laundered and given back to you when you leave. I'd like to remind you that we are not liable for any personal items that you hold onto. Every trip, we have a customer who wanted to hold onto one thing and severely regretted it later. Please, everything you need is provided free."

"Every restroom is stocked with a dozen different personal hygiene products. You can grab any staff member any time and ask for a drink, food, massage, or personal yoga session. We are staffed around the clock, 24 hours. If you want a yoga session at 3 am in the morning because in your yoga faith the moon energy is perfect. Simply grab a staff member. They'll page you a yoga teacher, who is on standby."

"The first organized activity is in an hour. When you hear the coconuts being banged in the tower, you know that you have fifteen minutes to get to the central square. It's the one with the Jacuzzi that looks like a fountain or well. Don't worry about attending all activities. This is your vacation. We are here to make sure that you have fun. I highly recommend the group activities. They are designed to be a delight."

"And a friendly reminder, do check everyone's tattoo before engaging with them. Not everyone here is a cunt out lesbian. You will find that all your indicated preferences will be completely satisfied. There is hidden video surveillance everywhere. You have an expert watching you. The expert will take action to make sure that you have exactly the time that you ordered."

The bus pulled to a stop. The door swung open. Everyone got up really polite. There was lots of stretching to get those limbs moving after the four hours ride from the airport. The bus driver seemed like a stickler. She'd put her hand in the aisle to stop a woman from leaving. The woman ahead of her walked out. Right as her head disappeared below the first seat, she made a shriek followed by a delightful voice. The bus driver let the next woman proceed out.

It was impossible to see what was happening because the stairs went down to the ground and made women disappear out of sight. Outside the bus was a photographer with one of those tele lenses snapping away. That was part of the trip to get Instagram perfect snaps to document everything, if you were to share with your friends that you were here. That was a big if.

For all that it might be, it seemed pretty mild. Maybe, they were spraying the people exiting water in the face or had midget moon them. It was sure mostly about getting an amazing shot with a facial expression full of emotion. When I was stepping down, I was simply going to endure the little silliness to get to the parts of the trip that I was really excited about. I must have made a pretty annoyed face when I stepped on the grass looking at my feet, when suddenly I had a small monkey clutching my head.

He almost covered my eyes with his tiny arms that were only little bigger than a meaty human finger. His fur was perfectly white. His hands and face were coal black. He was so gently and smooth. Oh my god, I had a monkey in my hair! For all my jadedness, I had never expected this. None of the staff were making a motion to suggest that they'd take it off of me. So I was left to figure out a way to coax it into my hand, so that I could take a look at it.

Oh, it was so fragile and sweat. I held out a finger. It grabbed it with its hand. Such tiny little, cute fingers! I carefully reached over my shoulder to gently lift him or her up. "Annabel" was written on a name tag with jewelry. Uncertain on how to interact with a monkey. They didn't teach that at law school, I introduced myself.

"Hi Annabel, sweat heart. I'm Lucy. Such a pleasure meeting you," I cooed. The cynical part in me faintly whispered into my ear, a little afraid to damage the enchanted moment. They profiled you and realized that you are a cynical bitch, who has to be melted down with the sweetest things.

Suddenly, Annabel got up and climbed up my arm. She used me like a jungle hum. The soft touches of her hands on my upper arms send tingles over me. I felt so delicate around her. I barely dared to move to avoid dropping her. She sat on my shoulder. She pointed at the boxes on the table and pulled on my ear to tell me to get going.

"Well, alright-y, miss monkey overlord," I teased her and walked us to the boxes.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that Nancy was surrounded by a clutch of baby ducklings with big orange beaks and fluffy yellow-black feathers. Nancy was squatting and overwhelmed which baby duckling to pick up. Her face was in priceless delight, and the photographers shutter click went frantic.

I powered down my phone and put my purse into the box. I felt utterly naked. A phone is like a lifeline to call for help, access information, and make things happen. Without my phone, I had to trust these people. We were way too far away from the nearest road to make it out on foot. It was scary to enter a world without checking my Facebook feed every fifteen minutes. This was the deal. This was the price of admission. I shut the box closed and enter my PIN code. A staff member wrote my name on a tag on the box.

Nancy was next to me. She was moving very slowly because she was holding Herbert in her left hand. That's what she had decided to name the baby duckling. As I was waiting on her, I saw the financial controller roll out of the bus. A worker was showering her in rainbow colored soap bubbles. The financial controller swatted the bubbles away and burst out in a bossy voice.

"I want a man right now."

"I am very sorry. Men are not allowed into the village. You will have to wait for the second part of the trip. Can I get you something else?"

The financial controller was seething at this point. I don't think that she got bad service. Well, the soap bubble were a bit lame. But it seemed to be more her panic about the place that made her throw a tantrum.

"I want a drink in sixty seconds or your days are numbered," exploded the financial controller.

The staff member cooly raised her wrist to her mouth to speak into a microphone. The staff member never lost her cool or composure. It wasn't even like she was straining to contain herself. It seemed like she was completely in control of the situation and everything was going to her plan. I almost dropped Annabel watching the scene unfold.

A loud noise distracted me a bit, but I had to take a double take anyway. A yurt door flew open about two hundred yards away. A concierge was running at full speed. Her legs were flying stretched out straight. Her dress rode up to her hips to expose the bare legs. She clutched a drink with one hand and the towering fabric on top of her head with the other. She shot across the lawn like a gazelle.

Arriving in front of the financial controller, she doubled over slightly trying to maintain proper posture while sucking her lungs hard. She held a glass with a cocktail, straw, and umbrella up to the financial controller.

Even the financial controller was dazed by what she had just experienced. She took the glass, felt dumbfounded and unsure for a moment, and not being able to think of anything better started drinking. She sat the glass down. A small silence happened. "Oh, that's my favorite vodka. How?" Two small silences happened. "What on earth! This is the orange juice from the little corner store where I used to grow up. No way! No that's impossible!" She burst out in tears, violently crying, and slumped down the to the ground. I had never seen anyone that floored. I was in shock and mouth breathing without being able to care enough to close my mouth.

The cool staff member bent forward and touched the financial controller on the shoulder. "Can I get you a Thai massage with a therapist, who is excellent at heart chakra healing?"

The financial controller nodded in silence, completely broken down. The same yurt door opened. A woman with a big rolled up matt hanging over her shoulder stepped out. She seemed to be struggling with the big bulky mat and pillows. She walked across the lawn, set everything down, and then gently coaxed and guided the financial controller to the mat. She caressed the financial controller with her arms. It looked more like she was holding her than a massage. The financial controller nestled into the therapist and let the water work flow.

Nancy looked terrified. Noticing my gaze, she turned to me: "I had read about their top of the line package. Seeing it is making me stutter. They psychologically profile you. Then they feed your profile to an AI. The AI runs ten thousand scenarios to simulate how you'd react. Finally they pick the most potent scenario and make it happen. No human psychologist could have come up with the idea that starting with innocuous soap bubbles would lead to such an intense reaction. I only got the platinum package.

Feeling the need for a friend, I offered: "Do you want to go clothes shopping?"

"Sure," she said.

We went to meander down the village. Every door was open and invited us to explore. The smell of sweet pastry came out of one. Another had the thick smell of lavender wafting out, probably a spa yurt. A porch had a thick, red carpet and Arabian night style puffy sitting and reclining pillows spread out. I could picture the perfect fantasy of a vacation lover feeding me grapes and telling me stories of travel. But then, I had also seen the women on the bus. Most were anxious and shy about interacting. Going from a tense "What do you do for a living" conversation to enmeshing our bodies seemed like such a far stretch. The staff was perfect, but the interaction with other guests who were struggling in the real world seemed something else.