When I was fifteen I worked at not just one camp, but two Boy Scout camps throughout the summer, and what happens at a scout camp is something that only people that go to camp can even start to understand. There's so many stories about camp, that I'll only stick to two (or maybe three) of the really crazy ones, and then work from there.
The introduction to the camp starts with a skit night. All of the campers gather together around the fire pit and staff puts together a bunch of really lame, but ultimately funny, skits and songs for the campers to get used to the weird vibe that is a scout camp. Each area of the camp (aquatics, pioneering, shooting, etc) had their own dedicated skit that they had to do to act as a quick commercial to their area for campers to be interested in what they taught/did. High adventure had a running gag about climbing the nearby mountain that came in multiple 30 second acts, shooting had their skit, and then aquatics had ours.
Aquatics were the weirdos. We ran around in our swimsuits, were very often not wearing shirts, and not only that, but the aquatics director and one of the other guards were girls. At an all boys scout camp, this was permission for us to do just about whatever we wanted because first, no one wanted to seem sexist, and second, unlike all of the other areas our area required certifications to teach and participate with.
For our skit to introduce ourselves to the campers we grabbed sheets, made togas, and then Matt pulled out his backpack that had built in speakers in it, would blast the Blue Danube. Yes, it's already awesome, but it only gets better. While the waltz was blasting out of his speakers we would then take our giant jugs of water, take a swig, strike a good classical pose and spit the water out of our mouths like a fountain. This would go on for about six or seven spits, and then chaos would ensue and instead of being polite, classical, statues, we would start spitting at each other, acting like a sprinkler, and yes, even trying to catch each others' fountain water in our mouths from long distance. It was like a messed up version of the Blue Man Group's marshmallow act, but with water . . . and people in togas. Once all of the water was gone and we were significantly wetter than we started, we'd run to the middle and chant, "Reach, throw, row, go, with support - aquatics!" That, by the way, is the order in which you should try to rescue a person if you see them drowning. Unfortunately because we were laughing so much from the Britneys (yes, both of our girls were named Britney, and double yes, the aquatics director Britney is the name sake for the Britney that appears in the SN world that I write stories about) doing their best Triple H water spit
That is only the introduction into the camper life, camp only gets weirder from there. There's the swimming merit badge strip for your life contest where you have to wear full clothes and strip down to your swimsuit (because hopefully it is under your clothes) and then jump into the pool. This is a timed event to show that in case of emergency you know how to get in the water fast, but ultimately led to each week at least one student would reach too far into their waistband and pull down suit with pants and manage to moon everyone, one person would forget to wear a swimsuit and jump in the pool in their underwear, and then one person who was taking their time would stumble over their own feet and belly flop into the pool while half dressed and their pants around their ankles. After the first week, the arts and craft area was next door to the pool, so this turned into a weekly event where all whittling, leather work, and basket making would pause for a few minutes to watch the strip and splash event.
As weird as the campers are, the staff is even worse.
There are strict rules for the campers, there are no rules for staff.
As long as we showed up to the classes we needed to teach, it didn't matter what else we did. One staff decided to try to sleep on top of every solid structure. You read that right, on top of the building. Another staff decided to create his own campground that was never used and took about a fifteen minute hike to get to. Staff snuck away from the mountain all the time to go back into Vegas to do whatever they want and would come back with Taco Bell for everyone. We had staff only competitions that lasted weeks, jokes and games that only staff knew about. There was the camper's triathlon, but there was the somewhat secret staff decathlon that was way more interesting.
All of those things we told campers not to do, we did - like gunnel hopping (pumping).
The side walls of a canoe, for those normal people who don't know things like this, are called gunnels. Gunnel hopping is when you stand up on those walls, and with a lot of balance and a bit of rhythm, start jumping up and down. When you do this without falling in the water and wrecking hard, you start to skip across the water. It's fun to do, but you're also bouncing 70 pounds worth of metal across water.
Being a camper is sort of lame, it's only about one week of a weird brand of crazy but being a staff is amazing. It's horrible money, the food is trash, but one summer of working at a camp can easily give you dozens upon dozens of stories that you'll have to tell.
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