Regression

Initially the weekend away was hard. I had already been away for three days on yr 12 camp and was tired. Tired physically from a lack of sleep and tired emotionally from having sufficient self control for three days and two nights to not tell thirty five 17 and 18 year old boys…

• To stop being fucking morons and kick the footy away from the windows.
• To stop being fucking morons and stop shooting arrows from the archery sets at the kangaroos
• To stop being fucking morons and get the hell off each other
• To stop being fucking morons and not put mattresses on the roof of the cabins
• To stop being fucking morons and not smash golf balls at the kangaroos
• To stop being fucking morons and stop doing dorm raids
• To stop being fucking morons and daring each other to touch the electric fence.
• To stop being fucking morons and stop “Ray”ing.

So I was feeling pretty a little sorry for myself and finding it difficult to gain a sense of ‘this too shall pass”. The last thing I wanted to do was re-pack and take off again for another 2 days. But, of course, when our gang of people go away and stay in dorm-like accommodation, there is giggle-fitting to be had and sad moments are likely to be replaced by the following moments:

1. The boys will all go into a separate room with a TV and pretend they live on planet beerfooty, which is in a different solar system to ours.

Meanwhile:

2. The girls will begin playing the drinking game “begetables” which is never played properly or finished because we just like to say the names of vegetables with our lips over our teeth and laugh at each other looking like toothless geriatrics.

3. The girls get the giggle-fits over geriatric renditions of “Bok Choy Bok Choy” and “Alfafa Sprouts Alfafa Sprouts”

4. The girls will play 80’s music, sing and do interpretive (and sometimes liturgical) dance moves. I am the exceptions to this. I maintain that I hate 80’s music, regardless of how many times I’m told I love it.

5. The girls will write a list of words that have sexual innuendos (Can you believe we’ve done this more than once? Where do those lists end up?)

6. The girls have some kind of wine and vodka-fueled emotional regression and get the giggle fits over naughty words.

7. The girls might play some sort of game that involves cards or physical challenges or throwing things or knocking things over (such as Jenga – I fucking hate that game) and that also requires screaming, cheering, creative abuse and sometimes shoving.

8. The girls come up with the next dress up theme for the next gathering

9. The girls get the giggle-fits remembering previous dress up themed parties

10. The girls finally join the boys when the footy is over and the boys are momentarily confused by the high pitched noise and arguments and scattered conversation interspersed with singing.

11. The drinking reaches its climax – most of the boys and girls have the “shit I’ve got to pump as much into me before I go to bed because that seems like a very sensible idea at this stage of the evening and I love waking up at 4am needing to go to the toilet but being even more pissed than when I went to bed and not being able to get out of my sleeping bag” mentality.

12. The girls yell their conversation at each other because the alcohol has made them deaf.

13. The girls get the giggle-fits. For pretty much no reason or any reason.

14. The fun starts. What is it about brushing your teeth with friends that reawakens the 17 year-old in you? We had dorm rooms and a big, communal bathroom.
There were lots of teachers there. If we were telling ourselves off at 2am we would have had to yell at ourselves:

• Stop being fucking morons and trying to fart everyone out of the bathroom
• Stop being fucking morons and singing at the top of your voice (with a mouth full of toothpaste) to test out the bathroom acoustics
• Stop being fucking morons and keep out of other people’s rooms – especially those who went to bed 2 hours earlier
• Stop being fucking morons and get the hell off each other
• Stop being fucking morons and remember where your own room is
• Stop being fucking morons and avoid thinking the kitchen is a legitimate option for sleeping when you still can’t find your room (which you had to walk past to get to the kitchen.)
• Stop being fucking morons and doing bed raids to confuse the shit out of the drunk person who’s bed you’re hiding in (Deeva..)
• Stop being fucking morons and laughing so hard you spit water all over the floor

Thank god I decided to go away for the weekend with friends to relax and get over the stress of school camp.