Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, who for the purpose of this story they will remain nameless and we will call them Dan and Adriane.
Since I did not want to pay the $600+ for a plane ticket home to Iowa to see family for Thanksgiving my good friends Dan and Adriane had asked if I would like to join them at their family’s Thanksgiving dinner in San Jose and then head over to Costanoa to camp for the night.Â Thanksgiving was great and Dan and Ade’s family were a lot of fun to hang out with.Â Everything really went according to plan.Â We unpacked the gear,Â Dan and I set up by a fire pit to have cigars, while Ade and baby Hannah settled in for the night in a super fancy hut.
After enjoying our cigars Dan went to his hut where his wife and baby were staying with electric mattresses, extra towels, a queen size bed, thick blankets, fluffy pillows and heavy curtains to keep the light out, and I went back to my pop tent and stiff army cot with no rain cover.Â I didn’t mind this kind of camping since its really the only way I’ve ever camped growing up in Iowa.Â Where the trouble came for me was that I was in the part of the resort where RV’s parked.Â Costanoa had set up this area kind of like the south side of the railroad tracks. You could hear the people who could afford the fancy huts snicker and gossip about RV folk as if we were 2nd class citizens drinking our box of wine and heating our hot pockets in our RV microwave.Â I was even lower in the class system than the RV’s since I only had a tent and so RV people didn’t even think I existed.
An example of this came about at 3am when I was aroused by a heavy diesel engine RV with what seemed like every inch of the back of the RV was covered in lights.Â I thought maybe the RV would pass by and go to one of the dozen empty RV camping spots down the road a bit, but then I see the break lights brighten showing that this RV had no intention of going further.Â The RV began to back up into my camping spot!
The lights were like Armageddon come to Earth!Â It was like the Lord Almighty was descending upon my tent with his legions of angels with gas powered 10 cylinder harps.Â The whole time I’m thinking I hope he knows there is a tent behind him otherwise I’m going to be run over! The worst about it was that the RV didn’t back up right the first time so he had to go back and forth like a old lady trying to parallel park a train.Â Back and forth, back and forth, this went on forever.Â At one point the driver got out and shined a flashlight out behind his mighty ship as if the existing million watts where not enough to see if he’d gone far enough.Â I saw his flashlight shine onto the thin walls of my tent.Â I thought that the driver would then realize that he was taking my spot and drive off to another location.Â After all, with all the lights blazing into my tent surely he could see my silhouette and that he was bothering another camper.
Needless to say the RV chose not to move.Â Instead he weighed anchor with his loud hydraulic stands that came to the ground slowly ensuring that he would be there a while.Â During the entire parking of the RV which to me seemed like it took all night, the lights on the back were on and apparently could not be shut off for any reason.
So why did I not get out of the tent make a fuss and yell and scream and complain?Â I don’t know.Â Maybe it was the fact that I didn’t want get out of my very warm sleeping bag, put on clothes, shoes, unzip the zipper on the tent, and stomp on up to possibly a very big and road raged RV driver with a sleeveless shirt and skull tattoo’s, who is probably pissed that he pays $1000 every time he fills up his gas tank.Â I didn’t see the point in making a fuss.Â In 4 or 5 short hours the sun would be up and I could shower pack up and go home and then sleep in my own bed without fear of any RV’s backing up on my face.Â Another reason why I didn’t complain is that its very hard to show your anger by slamming a nylon flap on a tent.Â Â No matter how aggressive you get with a zipper on a tent, it still only sounds like a zipper and not a man slamming a door shut.Â If you punch at a nylon wall of your tent it really doesn’t make an impressive noise as to show any form of aggression.Â Throwing a fit was not going to solve anything so I sat there on my army cot and stewed while the RV was setting up camp.