Me + Summer Plans = Recipe for Disaster

Dear Diary, 

Although most people anticipate summer like a fat kid anticipates his chocolate cake, I glimpse at what Summer has to offer and then grudgingly  turn back to my parents and ask "umm can I stay home?". Summer and I never really 'clicked'. Sure the absence of stress and work were great, but the whole 'sleep away camp' thingy was never really for me. (P.S. this is the moment where my mom yells "HA I TOLD YOU, YOU'RE INTROVERTED!") I hated the pit in my stomach before delving into an environment of unfamiliar faces, where one's popularity is contingent on how good one is at sports. (P.S. this is the moment where my mom yells "ANDREW. WHY DIDN'T YOU INHERIT YOUR FATHER'S BASKETBALL SKILLS") I don't know mother. Maybe because I inherited more of YOUR genes.

My first experience with sleep away camp was with Camp Lavi at the age of Idonotremember; though the basketball superstar, a.k.a my father, brags that he first went to sleep away camp at age seven. Congratulations Dad, you were a very mature seven year old. My memory of this camp is very vague; however, there was one instance, which I can recall, that both guaranteed my departure from the camp and has been a reference of mockery to this day. For some reason, my mom thought it was alright to send her child off to camp with 'tighty whitys'. Imagine the situation: I am surrounded by people I had just barely met and when we were all getting ready for bed, this loser pulls down his pants, exposing his tighty whitys, and the bunk roars in laughter. Apparently, because of my underwear, my popularity was determined by the first night; though, I suspect when they saw me play basketball the following day they would think no differently. Well the whole buzz about my under garments gradually died down, and over the course of the summer I  had made a lot of friends. One night the bunk was pretty wild, doing all sorts of weird things guys do when girls are not around, and this kid walks out with a hockey stick  and hockey equipment and attached to the hockey stick was...yes...my tighy whitys. "All hail lord tighty whity" Cried the bunk--I buried my head in my pillow and feigned sleeping.

In hindsight, it was a harmless, humorous joke, and  I probably should not have left this camp after a single bad experience. Looking back, this was probably one of my 'better' summers. Anyway, I left Camp Lavi and for the next three years I regretfully ventured into my next sleep away camp, Sport Star. There is not much to say about this camp except that the name of the camp certainly did not fit its campers. Sure there were some athletic people her and there, but aside from those few sport savvy campers, the camp was a representation of the least athletic kids in their respective schools. Very deceiving camp name. 'Sport Suck' still maintains the alliteration but better depicts the kids it attracts. 

Well the Sport Star years are very uninteresting , so let's fast-forward to the Seneca days. Oh God. Seneca has a notorious reputation as the camp where popularity is contingent on clothes, hair, looks, cologne, and accessories. It has that materialistic, cliquey environment where either you're in or you're out, and if you are out, all you want to do is get the hell out of that place. The staff too is absorbed in that cliquey environment, making it a very unpleasant experience to a camper who lacks the aforementioned prerequisites. Whatever prompted me to spend my summer at this camp must have been a pretty shitty prompt. "To hell with the rumors!" I said. I packed my bag, said my goodbyes, and was off to Camp Seneca Lake

To my luck I was placed in the bunk with the people who epitomized the camp's reputation: The Five Town kids. Basically apply all the adjectives I used to describe Seneca to these Five Town kids. I am sure there are plenty of Five Town kids who do not fit the stereotype; however, many do--especially those who go to Seneca. Well I walk into a bunk with thirteen beds: six beds in two rows with one bunk bed. Can you guess who was subject to the bunk bed? The outcast! "err but I brought boxers!" I thought. A couple of days later, my bunk was sitting at our designated table, waiting for dinner to be served, and my counselor asked me "Wait so your name is Andrew Mayer, right?" ..."Three days into camp and MY COUNSELOR cannot remember my name" I thought "wow someone is getting a lowered tip" ..."Pretty sure" I responded. "Umm by any chance are you related to an Allie Mayer?" This is the moment where I turned into a nothing in the eyes of the Five Town kids to a flippin' God. As I said in the introductory blog, my sister is just known. People know her. She has a great, outgoing personality which is accompanied by a beautiful face. It kills me to fawn over anyone besides myself, so refer to my second blog for a vivid description of my sister. 

My counselors began talking to the counselor's of neighboring bunks, and I was soon dubbed as "Allie Mayer's brother". I was then considered cool in the eyes of the counselors, and that mentality shed to the campers--particularly the Five Town kids. From then on I had the best summer yet. The counselors loved me and the campers chimed in on the 'Andrew luvin'. Well when the summer ended I was actually upset. Despite the camp's negative reputation, I had a blast--I did not want to leave. Thanks Al.

Well, as expected, a year proved to long to sustain a connection, and I no longer communicated with my Seneca friends during the school year. Nonetheless, I desperately wanted to go to Seneca for my second year where I would hopefully reconnect with past friends. Unfortunately, I was completely, utterly, totally wrong. I was not placed in the same bunks as the friends I had made the previous year, and the separation did not help reestablishing connections. My counselors were different than the previous year, and I was not a fan of the new ones. Well to keep a long story short, I haaateedddd this summer. I asked my parents if I could leave after one month, but who cares about Andrew? So my parents forced me to endure two months as a victim to the kids cliquishness. Dammit Allie!

After Seneca, I went on a travel program called Kanfei Nesharim. This program entailed three weeks of skiing/touring in New Zealand and Australia followed by a  relaxing week in Hawaii. Similar to Sport Star, this camp was just one of those 'blahhh' camps. I was not too big a fan of the people that went on the trip, so the dearth of interesting people somewhat abates the seemingly extraordinary countries I visited. 

"It's time Andrew." *Gulpp* My dad no longer wanted to spend a fortune on camps that I either hated or labeled 'blahhh', so he told me that this summer I will be making money. As a high school junior who was looking for every opportunity to increase my resume, in lieu of a job I proposed an internship to my dad. My dad agreed, and that summer I interned at the New York Board of Rabbis: the leading organization for inter-faith dialogue. I had to take a bus into the city three days a week, where I worked from 8:00-3:00. Colleges think I was fostering the dialogue between religions, yet all I did was manage paperwork and get coffee for the superiors. Shows how much thattt worked. 

Well this Summer I am no longer interested in an internship; I wanna make moneeyyyy. So I got a job as a counselor at the local day camp, and fortunately most of my school friends will be working there too. This summer symbolizes out last hoorah together--truly the last leg of a twelve year journey. Quite a poignant way to end off this stage of my life in my opinion; though, knowing my previous Summer experience this will somehow end up a miserable disaster. 'Shittt is that my camper over there drowning??!!?'

Ciao