Roll the Tent

 Inspired by a real event

And so it happened that the Smith family (because Smith is a good name for those who wish to remain anonymous) took their annual camping trip. There was good food, lots of laughter, singing around the campfire, and cousins. This last element is the one most worthy of our attention.

James, Jerry, and John (because names that start with J are convenient) shared one tent, and Barb, Beth, and Brenda shared another. No one knew exactly how it started. It just began as these things do. Maybe someone hid a drink behind a tree or covered a pair of shoes with sticks and leaves. That part isn’t so important. But what is integral to the story is that a war broke out. This was not a war of words and cannons. No, it was a war of wits and boasts.

“You’d better watch out!”

“What are you whispering about over there?”

“You just wait and see!”

An aura of distrust soon settled over the campsite.

But nightfall came, surprisingly, peacefully enough. The funny stories the uncles were telling slipped away gradually into low murmurs and yawns, and soon enough everyone dispersed to their tents.

Jim, Jerry, and John moved in a clumsy state of tiredness about their tent, then, at peace in heart and body, they soon fell asleep, attuned to the noises of nature around them.

Barb, Beth, and Brenda, however, felt the night was just beginning. There was so much to talk about. So many little details of life to catch up on. So many questions about the future and ponderings on things past, that quite a little time had passed before they began to bumble about by some form of artificial lighting and prepare for bed.

It was then that Brenda remembered something. “Girls!” she said, “I almost forgot!” and she held up, in the dim light, a small padlock. (Because what girl doesn’t take a padlock along when she goes camping?)

“Surely we can do something with that!” said Beth, her eyes lit with mischief and her voice soft with conspiracy.

Barb agreed. “Their tent!” she whispered triumphantly. “The door of their tent!”

Beth unzipped their own tent flap and looked out. Through the silhouette of the tree branches they could see the night sky, sprinkled liberally with stars. An owl called from far away. Water ran gently down the little creek behind their tent. Nothing else seemed to be moving. “I think they’re sleeping,” she whispered to the others.

But who would do the deed? Brenda said they would be suspicious of her right away, it was best If she didn’t do it. Barb said she had to live with Jerry. She didn’t want to put up with the consequences of the action for the rest of her life. And so they both turned to Beth.

“But I…” Beth begin.

“You’re perfect!” Barb said.

“We’ll go with you,” Brenda added.

“They’ll never know, we won’t tell,” Barb persuaded.

And finally Beth relented.

The three crept silently across the intervening space between the two tents. There was just enough light to avoid a clump of shrubs to one side, and Beth bit her lip only once to silence the gasp of pain when she stepped on a sharp stick.

They halted before the boys’ tent. A gentle snore issued from the darkened interior. The three culprits stifled their giggles, and Brenda handed the open padlock to Beth. Carefully, she inserted the shank through both zippers of the door, then closed it with a gentle click. The sound seemed loud in the peaceful silence of the campground. The three held their breath, but the steady rhythm of sleeping sounds did not change. Turning, they crept back the way they had come.

Sometime later, when all was silent in the girls’ tent, a dark figure who had been tossing and turning in the boys’ tent, awoke. John, feeling the call of nature, sat up and fumbled for his phone. Turning the light on, he stood up, partially bent over, and headed for the door, doing his best not to step on the other two. Confidently, he reached for the zipper to let himself out of the tent. He hadn’t moved it far when he could tell, even in the darkness, something peculiar was going on. The zipper was certainly moving, but the flap wasn’t coming open.

John shone his light on the zipper pull, thinking he must have pulled both by accident, and tried again. This time, he could clearly see he was pulling the correct one, but the other was mysteriously coming along with it. He put his phone down and grabbed the two zipper pulls, trying to force them apart. He pulled until one of them seemed to be bending, but still the door would not open. He knelt on the floor, trying to peer through the tiny space between the two zippers to see what could be holding them together. In the moonlight, he saw the faint silver shine of a padlock. He knelt back on his heels and muttered an exclamation half aloud. Then he played his light around the tent, wondering if there was another way out. Of course, there wasn’t.

“What’s the matter?” asked a voice. James had been awoken, whether by the light or the rustle of movement no one knows.

“We’re locked in!” hissed John. “Somebody padlocked our tent shut!”

“Do what?” James sat up.

“It had to be the girls,” John said bitterly. “At least I don’t know who else would have done it.”

It didn’t take long for the sound of their voices to awaken Jerry. He soon appraised the situation. “We gotta get out of here somehow.”

A council of war ensued. One suggested ripping the tent (Because all guys like a little destruction now and then, right?) and another thought a pocketknife would do a more precise job. For a while, that seemed to be the best idea. Next came the question of where to make the cut. John thought the door seemed the most reasonable place. Jerry opined the back of the tent seemed better, and James wondered why they couldn’t just unzip one of the windows and cut out the netting, at least for tonight. That way they wouldn’t completely ruin the tent.

And then Jerry said, “Really we should wake the girls up and make them come unlock it.”

“Right,” agreed James.

“We could yell,” shrugged John.

But that, they decided, would wake up more of an audience than they liked to view their predicament. Besides, only the girls should have to pay for this vile deed.

“Whenever we decide where to make the cut, we should go and pound on their tent,” James said.

“If I know anything about them they’ll just laugh and go back to sleep. They need to pay a little for this,” said Jerry, remembering certain other events surrounding pranks and his sister.

“Too bad we can’t just walk over there with the whole tent,” James mused.

“Hey! Do you think we could? Like what if we just sorta turned it over on its side like a hamster wheel?” asked John.

And so it was that at 3:00 in the morning, the three found themselves rearranging the contents of their tent. Working together, they managed to pull up the stakes. “Glad the ground was soft,” grunted Jerry.

Then it was time to roll, literally. Together, they pushed the front wall of the tent down and out, then stepped on it. Their backpacks and sleeping bags tumbled around their feet. The tent, surprisingly, held its shape fairly well as it settled to the ground.

The process was repeated several times. It was a bit disorienting, and nearly impossible to steer, but luckily they were just about straight across from the girls. For one moment, they thought they’d been hung up by the bushes that grew, forgotten, halfway across the clearing. But at last, peering through the window, Jerry said he thought one more roll should get them right to the girls’ door. “Then they should be able to hear us without waking up everyone else,” he said.

“Nope!” John contradicted. “Twice more. Then we’ll just roll right into them and give them a bit of a surprise wake-up call.”

James chortled gleefully.

Thunk. The tent rolled once more. The guys started the familiar process of shoving things out of the way and pushing out the tent side.

Crunch.

Brenda came suddenly awake. Something was wrong. What was on her feet? What was that noise? Why was the tent wall leaning so far to one side? “What’s going on?” she whispered, sitting up.

Beth’s first thought was a bear.

Barb only awakened when the whole tent begin to slide along the ground. “Hey!” she cried out, startled.

Everything happened so fast there was no time for consultation. The girls’ tent was a pop-up version that didn’t require stakes. Instead of just collapsing under the pressure, it had actually begun to slide across the ground.

“You can let us out, now!” said a voice. “Where’s the key?”

Brenda recognized it as John. “It’s just the guys,” she said to the others. “They’re just pushing our tent around or something. Shall we let them out?”

But before the conversation could continue, Jerry said, “Let us out before we count to ten or we’ll roll right over you!”

“Hurry!” said Beth. “Where’s the key?”

“I need a light!” said Brenda. The girls fumbled frantically in the dark tent.

“Coming!” said Barb. 

“I can’t find it,” gasped Brenda. “I put it in one of these pockets, but I don’t know which!”

“Seven,” said a voice.

“Wait!” said Barb. “Don’t you dare go over us! You’ll squash us! We’re trying to find the key!”

“Nine,” said a chorus.

“No!” cried Beth. “Please!”

“Ten!” the voices chanted.

“All right, guys, heave!” commanded Jerry. Once more they maneuvered the tent. The girls screeched, but the boys didn’t roll over them. Instead, like before, the tent slid along the ground.

Suddenly the screams from the girls’ tent became more frantic. Their tent had slid off a sudden drop and water, much to their consternation, was soaking quickly through the flimsy walls and floor. Thankfully, the creek was shallow, only a foot or so deep, but the rocks underfoot were sharp.

Uncles and fathers begin popping their heads out of their tents and shining lights on the two tents, trying to determine what the ruckus was. At last, Beth managed to get the tent door unzipped, and the girls stumbled out. Brenda found the key in a dark mysterious pocket and released the boys. The girls’ tent was pulled from the water, and the boys’ tent was dragged back across the campground to its original spot.

The rest of the girls’ night was rather unpleasant. Wet tents and sleeping bags usually are.

The rest of the guys’ night was spent in peaceful slumber after a round of congratulatory high fives.

This story is, perhaps, mostly without moral. But as I have said before, I believe almost every story has something to teach us if we look closely enough. So perhaps here, the moral is this: When things look dark and circumstances appear unsurmountable, there are times you’ve got to get willing to think creatively. Often, getting upset and ripping into things that stand in your way isn’t the only option. There are times when you’ve just got to roll the tent.