The Camelbak, or I Still Hate Nature

A few weeks ago I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and purchased a new water bottle. I’m such a ridiculous cheapskate that shelling out $15 for a stupid purple Camelbak seemed exorbitant (passing over the fact that I also bought at least 4 refills for my Yankee Candle air freshener, because I have a problem). The Camelbak has a straw and a special top that’s supposed to prevent you from spilling, but thus far it’s mainly prevented me from drinking. It’s fortunate that I’m not actually taking the bottle on a hike like you’re supposed to, because I would die of dehydration within a day. Huffing and puffing away at this thing in class is bad enough, when I start attracting looks and realize that this water bottle has become the latest addition in the ode to ineptitude that is my life. Perhaps there is some leftover vodka gumming up the works, but who can say.

When I bought the water bottle, I found myself thinking of my best friend Rachel, who also has a Camelbak and actually uses it while pitting herself against forces of the wild. She has been living in New Zealand since February, hiking and camping and being adventurous, whereas I have a serious aversion to being in such intimate contact with nature. When Rachel and I both studied abroad in Christchurch, I was 20 and I kind of struggled with that: I didn’t want to be lame and stay home. Now at the ripe old age of 23, I’m fine with being lame. If God had intended me to sleep outside and pee behind trees, he would have made me more impervious to cold. Nevertheless, I thought of Rachel’s Camelbak’s intrepid spirit and realized that the most dangerous place I’ll be taking this baby is I-40 in downtown Winston-Salem at rush hour.

Speaking of danger, an organization I’m part of at school is holding some team-building event in November which I have recorded in my planner as “Team thing in the woods” (or as I like to read it: “Plan to be sick that day”). My sole interaction with this event will be collecting the participants’ checks; I’m the organization’s treasurer because apparently I hate myself. But not enough to go interact with the great outdoors, because I’m going to be sick that day. Fighting with this vodka residue is really wearing me out.