Hi, my name's Fletch and I'm on Nightwatch...
Nothing denotes Kawabi symbolism more than Nightwatch. A pain in the ass when you're a camper, and a bigger pain in the ass when you're on staff. I always felt there was a little bit Shawshank Redemption with the camper/nightwatch relationship, since as a camper your view of nightwatch was someone who kept you in permanent lock down (in your tent), enforced a strict lights out rule, and was your only conduit to the outside world (via letters from home). And then there was the threat of isolation if you made a peep after lights out, by hanging out on the rock.
Thanks to being a camper with Will (Crockett), I was a regular visitor to 'the rock'. The boy had three different 'bits' he would use to crack me up. One was to imitate the trailer voice and sounds from Psycho 2 (even funnier when he used a flashlight to show his krazy facial movements), the second was to sing the Ewok song from the end of Return of the Jedi (which would crescendo with a "yop-yo", with such enthusiasm that I would always lose it), and the third was in the still silence of the tent he would let out a tiny high pitched fart, and then exclaim, "oooo, a little freep!" These may not sound funny, but the stupid voices he used, would cut me up. Of course, the bugger would synchronize these 'bits' just in time for when nightwatch was coming by our tent, equipped with that other signature of Kawabi-dom, the kerosene lantern (which nobody else in the Western World has used in years, except those with extremely rustic cottages). Of course the fun for Will was that he knew any combination of these bits would set me off like clockwork, and would bring down the wrath of nightwatch. And everytime it ended with an angry staff voice coming from outside the tent, "Furneaux...out...NOW!!". Now Will and I were campers together for six years, and once or twice every week for at least four of them, he would pull this stunt. By our last year together in anticipation, I began to wear thick long-legged pajama bottoms, sweatshirts and thick socks to bed, despite the temperature discomfort. 'The rock' was nothing to me by my last year as a camper, a la Alec Guinness in the Bridge on the River Kwai.
And then there's the flip-side of it. As you all know, one has very little 'down time' on staff. You're going from 8 in the morning to 10 at night with a one hour break in the middle of the day. Sure you're at camp, and its mostly fun, but man, that's still one long-assed day. And with nightwatch, your day was even longer and without any break in the middle. Hell, you'd even miss lunch because you were spraying gasoline everywhere and picking up orders for smokes at the landing. And it was always worse at the beginning of a session when some group of hormone addled senior boys would try the 'dress up and dash' to the girls section, because they're too stupid to realize that they're not the first to try this pointless exercise, and that they're too awkward and obvious not to get caught (never saw a group of studs make it past the windsurfing bench). And don't get me started on lifters...other than to add that nowadays, I would be pretty paranoid that while lifting a kid, one of his tentmates woke up, and then wrote home about how one night Fletch took his buddy out of the tent and off into the woods. Yeah, that will look good to an over-reacting parent.
Because I knew it sucked, I somehow managed only to be stuck with nightwatch four times during three years on staff. Some may call me a slacker, but I call myself lucky.
Now lights out, no talking, and if you need anything, I'll be passing by and holding my lantern up to the side of the tent.
Thanks to being a camper with Will (Crockett), I was a regular visitor to 'the rock'. The boy had three different 'bits' he would use to crack me up. One was to imitate the trailer voice and sounds from Psycho 2 (even funnier when he used a flashlight to show his krazy facial movements), the second was to sing the Ewok song from the end of Return of the Jedi (which would crescendo with a "yop-yo", with such enthusiasm that I would always lose it), and the third was in the still silence of the tent he would let out a tiny high pitched fart, and then exclaim, "oooo, a little freep!" These may not sound funny, but the stupid voices he used, would cut me up. Of course, the bugger would synchronize these 'bits' just in time for when nightwatch was coming by our tent, equipped with that other signature of Kawabi-dom, the kerosene lantern (which nobody else in the Western World has used in years, except those with extremely rustic cottages). Of course the fun for Will was that he knew any combination of these bits would set me off like clockwork, and would bring down the wrath of nightwatch. And everytime it ended with an angry staff voice coming from outside the tent, "Furneaux...out...NOW!!". Now Will and I were campers together for six years, and once or twice every week for at least four of them, he would pull this stunt. By our last year together in anticipation, I began to wear thick long-legged pajama bottoms, sweatshirts and thick socks to bed, despite the temperature discomfort. 'The rock' was nothing to me by my last year as a camper, a la Alec Guinness in the Bridge on the River Kwai.
And then there's the flip-side of it. As you all know, one has very little 'down time' on staff. You're going from 8 in the morning to 10 at night with a one hour break in the middle of the day. Sure you're at camp, and its mostly fun, but man, that's still one long-assed day. And with nightwatch, your day was even longer and without any break in the middle. Hell, you'd even miss lunch because you were spraying gasoline everywhere and picking up orders for smokes at the landing. And it was always worse at the beginning of a session when some group of hormone addled senior boys would try the 'dress up and dash' to the girls section, because they're too stupid to realize that they're not the first to try this pointless exercise, and that they're too awkward and obvious not to get caught (never saw a group of studs make it past the windsurfing bench). And don't get me started on lifters...other than to add that nowadays, I would be pretty paranoid that while lifting a kid, one of his tentmates woke up, and then wrote home about how one night Fletch took his buddy out of the tent and off into the woods. Yeah, that will look good to an over-reacting parent.
Because I knew it sucked, I somehow managed only to be stuck with nightwatch four times during three years on staff. Some may call me a slacker, but I call myself lucky.
Now lights out, no talking, and if you need anything, I'll be passing by and holding my lantern up to the side of the tent.
posted by Nick | 8/18/2004 09:49:00 a.m.
2 Comments:
I was one of those senior boys who went sneaking down to the girls tent line. We made it there and back once, but discovered the next day taht we had been watched the whole way.
James (Peg) Tyas
Addictive Facebook allowed me to find this site. Fletch, I remember you, but you may not remember me. I was a camper from 85-89. I remember two things. One, you asking me how old I thought you were, and I said 24, although I'm sure you were 17-18. The other was when you and who knows who else scared the living crap out of us in B6. The consellors were playing some sort of night game, but we had convinced each other that we were under attack and had turned all the beds inwards to the centre of the tent as a makeshift fort in order to defend ourselves from Jason, Freddy, Pinhead, and any other monster our imaginations had convinced us that were out there. Good times. I was also part of the B8 group with the worst 55 miler time ever. It was over 24 hours I think. By the way, your dessert smells funny.
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