Friday 23rd August 1997,

Today is possibly the worst day of my life so far. I’m lying here in the infirmary, just to get away from Michael Marcus, feeling more exhausted than ever before. I’ve had 3.5 hours sleep in the last 36 hours, and nearly killed myself, and four others, on the road….and why?
On Thursday Morning I was up at 8am, and worked through the day. In the evening, the kid’s luggage needed sorting out, but it all turned into a big unorganised mess, leading to my arrival back at the camp from the airport after midnight. I was then told to be in the office at 5am. I arrived on time, and yet had NOTHING to do until 7, when I just portered a couple of bags 50 yards. At 10, I did the mail run. On my return, I was told that I had to take 3 kids to Scarsdale, New York, a round trip of 270 miles. I protested my tiredness, so they sent someone with me….who couldn’t drive. During the next 6 hours, I consumed countless cups of coffee, even some cigarettes I found, in a desperate effort to stay awake. And yet I still kept blacking out for half a second at a time, and in the moments in-between, the road was just a dizzy blur. I would not have even thought of driving myself 5 miles when I was that tired, let alone sending someone else’s sons on a 135 mile journey. I’d just like to know:
Why couldn’t one of the maintenance guys have gone on the baggage run the night before? I wasn’t driving either way.
Why was I needed at 5am?
Why couldn’t someone else have gone with the kids? and..
Why do they never take responsibility for there own actions/mistakes?
I am now exhausted, and yet unable to sleep, worrying about the lives that may have been lost, including my own, simply because of other peoples inability to manage.

One thing that sort of took the edge off today’s nightmare was the following note, written on my HPC, by Jessie , one of 3 brothers I was taking to New York. I think it’s fairly revealing…

>From the desk of Jesse ,
Today was the last day of camp. I was originally supposed to go on the Westchester Bus which left at 6:45 AM. But the office fucked up and told me that my parents were picking me up at 10:30 AM. I woke up this morning and Jed was gone. He had already been picked up by his parents. He woke everyone up but me and gave me the finger while I was sleeping. What that stupid fuck doesn’t know is that I have his expensive fitted hat and I’m not giving it back. It’s a nice hat and I’ll enjoy wearing it. Anyway, after he left, I had fun writing with a pen on his cubby, Jed “has no friends” Cohen was here in ‘97.
Goodman and I played in their bunk while I was waiting for my Mom and Dad. Unfortunately I found out soon enough that I was going home in a van with my brothers with Kevin Edgar and a cool driver named Jon Horniblow.
So far, we’ve listened to cool music and made a pit stop at Burger King for lunch. So here I am now writing this document in this camp van with everyone sleeping but Jon and myself. I’m getting pretty tired myself so I guess I’ll go to sleep now. See ya’ next year!
Bye,
Jesse

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Camp then proceeded to be it’s usual unpleasant self for a while. I asked if I could do some post-camp, as I needed the money. I was told “yes” by MRM, but when Michelle found out, I was told that “I could take my name of that list for a start”. When I argued and started pointing out what MRM had said, Fuller chipped in and told me that he’d be “taking bet’s as to whether I got post-camp work or not”
I knew I was doomed.

Tuesday 25th August 1997. I arose at 6am this morning, and proceeded to assemble my maths paper for sending to the UK. Lukas Horn came to me at breakfast and asked me for a word. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but then Fuller came and was obnoxious, and I knew something was wrong. I was put to me that I had driven the local Chief of Polices’ daughter around, and bought alcohol for her. She is 17. I denied it immediately, as I was not responsible, but they would not listen to me, and gave me no opportunity to speak
Things became nasty, and I was threatened in various ways, and watched as I packed. Eventually, Amy, one of the office girls, overheard. The next thing I knew, 8 others had quit, leaving Camp Greylock in a bad position for post camp staff.

During the next hour, my innocence was established, and my job was offered back. I did, of course, decline.

We all went to Lee and Pittsfield. Some went with an American friend of their’s, and the remaining 7, including myself, hired 2 cars…one from Rent-a-Wreck, for $27.50, and one from Hertz for $150. We are now sitting in a Motel in New York…sleazy as hell! It has a 24hour porn channel, mirrors on the ceiling, and cockroaches on the bed…but hey! it’s cheap…tomorrow is another day..

Tomorrow came, with some surprises. First thing in the morning, at 5am, Joseph Benesh went and dropped off Kevin Minnott at JFK for his flight, and Amy at the Hotel where her trek was to start from. After awakening later at 8.15 to find the porn channel still fully active, and Uncle Fester watching fixated, we arose, and departed our charming abode. We went to drop some people off at the Port Authority Bus station, where things started getting interesting. We bumped into not only Tomask Guzda, but also Sarah and Louise from Camp Romaca (Greylock’s sister camp) AND Marcus Hawker, who was travelling with Lucia Dello Ioio. Joseph and myself dropped the Hertz rental car off at JFK, agreeing to meet the others later.

We met at the NorthEast corner of Central Park, packed 7 of us into the Rent-a-Wreck Chevvy, and proceeded to grind our way to the Malibu Studios Hotel, where Marcus and Lucia had a $70 room. We paid for an extra 2 to stay at $15 each, and goodness only knows how, but managed to sneak the other 3 in. So we ended up with 7 people in a 7′ X 5′ room. Two people on each single bunk bed, and three on the floor. I kid you not. But not bad at $8 each for a central location.

That evening, before retiring to our particular micron of sleeping space, we ventured out onto Broadway, where we ate far too much Pizza, and proceeded to catch a sub to Times Square, where we drank in “The Irish Pub”, and took a walk, dazzled by the lights, street musicians, and shops full of electronic gizmo’s, most of which were half the price I’d paid for them in Mass. Ho Hum.

Next day, we parted ways, and I drove with Tomask and the two female Polish friends of his, to New Jersey, where he was to pick up his DriveAway to Dallas. The lucky bastard only went and got a brand new Toyota Lexus, with cream leather interior, electric everything, Nackamichi stereo, walnut trim, and 104 miles on the clock. Damn!

Marcus and I then went back to Becket, where I had to return the rent-a-wreck. He stayed with his friend Brehan, and I stayed in an expensive, but very pleasant Motel in Lee for four nights at $55 a night. Ouch! However, it allowed me to watch some TV for the first time since arriving. It was certainly an experience. With corny local adverts for the store just down the road it had a quaint aire about it, but some of the mainstream was fairly bad too. I STILL cannot work out if the Jenny McCarthy Show is auto-referential satire or what…but if it’s rally meant to be a sitcom…God help us!

It was interesting to watch the original “Price is right”, “Supermarket Sweep”, and QVC. I notice they go a big bundle on stuff like Mr Bean… in fact, anything with Rowan Atkinson in it. The radio is an alternative of sorts, but you have 2 choices… National Public Radio (quirky but educational), Country Music (AAAARGHHH!), or stations that play the same 7 songs over and over and over and…

At around 10pm on the night on the 30th, I heard some breaking news on the television. As the evening developed, the story intensified, and many cable TV channels dropped normal programming to show CNN or similar. Then, just after midnight, the first rumours started coming from the NewsWires into the studio. And then, about an hour after that, came the confirmation… Diana was dead.

I must admit, I was stunned. It wasn’t until the next day that the weight of the whole situation sunk in. It may be corny, but whatever you think of her, she did some good…not to the monarchy, but to good causes. A friend emailed me the next day, saying “…except that Diana, Princess of Wales has been murdered by Mossad, MI6, the FBI or Hammas…”. I wonder……

After four nights, I decided that I’d “done” expense for a while, and, on Labor Day, found a Motel in Springfield. The bus journey was $10, and the taxi another $10, but the motel was $20 less anyhow. And boy, does it show! Called the “Knights Inn”, it’s in a part of West Springfield that I’d not care to spend too much time in. Coming straight from the 50’s, the entire road is covered in sleazy motels, and places like “Bob’s Auto Discount Plaza”, with neon signs that got smashed 20 years ago, and no-one really cares. There’s a pool, but I’m not contemplating ending my life enough to risk a swim.

That afternoon, I decided to walk the mile to the movies. Not pedestrian friendly at all, I spend most of my time teetering on the edge of the highway, being buffeted by fat old men and their fat grumbling wives, driving 96′ long 8000 HP Winnebago monstrosities. Eeek!
After having seen the very cheesy “Mimic”, I strolled into the Super Stop’n'Shop, and to my delight, found that they stocked Twinings English Breakfast tea. Marvellous. Went and bought some. Didn’t think about how I was going to make a cup, but I managed, somehow. Also found, to my disappointment, that Staples had reduced the Cassiopeia by $100, but they said they’d sort it out anyhow.

I walked back to my motel, and switched on the TV, to learn that Di’s chauffeur was twice over the legal drink limit, and doing 105 mph when he crashed. Which means that the paparazzi may well get of lightly.

It’s Labor Day evening now and the cicadas are chirping away in their trees. At this point in time, I expect to head back to New York City on the 3rd, possibly meet up with Marcus, and then meet my brother at JFK on the 4th. We leave for Philly on the 5th, and from there on, it’s onto the rockies, a weeks car hire to take in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and San Francisco, and then a “do-as-much-as-we-can-with-whats-left-of-the-time-a-thon”.

Tags: america,massachusetts,summer camp,travelogue,usa
Categories: america, camp greylock, massachusetts, travelogue
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10.20pm, August 10th, 1997,
I’m writing this section while keeping Nicky from Surrey, who’s on duty in the canteen, company. You can be sure of one thing here; you can always get access to sugar in one form or another. You can’t get a drink of water at 10:45 at night, but you can a selection of about 68 different candy bars and ice cream. Hmmmm…. Same thing goes for breakfast..
“More syrup with your fried lard?” Thanks. “Or how about a chocolate glazed, chocolate filled chocolate donut this morning?”. That’s alright, I’ll just stick to a bowl of turkey grease with my hot chocolate that stays in the cup when you turn it upside down.

There’s about 30 brits here, all told. Of the ones I know, there is, in the
Office: Belinda from Zimbabwe, Nicki Lucia and Amy from the UK, and Lee from New Zealand. On the maintenance side, there are Kate, Maja, Tom, Mark and Robert from Poland, Patrick from Ireland, Mark from Scotland, Marcus from England, Uri from Russia, Milan from somewhere, and various others of unknown origin.

My parents were expecting me to have a bit of a twang to my accent on my arrival back in England, they’ll probably be a bit disappointed. John Ryall, British Camp Driver for many years, has been living in the US, married to an American girl, for about 5 years now. He’s just at the phase of sounding Australian that all immigrants from Britain seem to got through before becoming totally Americanized. Although I do find myself using phrases like “parking lot” with alarming regularity. One that I didn’t catch onto quickly was “yawall set” (you’re all set), which means “done, finished, you can go now”. When I first encountered “yawall set”, I stood there, momentarily puzzled, wondering, perhaps, if I had turned into a jelly.

Assimilation into “the American Way” came quickly and easily. I experienced no “culture shock”. I was just somewhere a bit warmer. New York City is a bad way to start America, although to be precise, I was in Manhattan, right near Brooklyn. Nuff to make you lose a marble or two, and most of them had. One thing that did surprise me was the appalling lack of social niceties in the service. People there were unnecessarily terse. Here in the Berkshires, they at least attempt some courtesy, but most shop workers are too dull to be of much use.

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One example of this is the American phone system. I’d been led to believe it was one of the best in the world. Yeah, the Third World! Anything more than a local call is an expensive nightmare. Want to call the UK from a payphone? “Please deposit $7 for the first 3 minutes”. So, bearing in mind that a quarter is the largest coin denomination, that’s 28 coins. So a calling card is the only way to go. Which means pressing a minimum of 38 digits. For example, to call a typical number in the UK requires:
1-800-423-8129-29430-52317-1-1-011-44-118-921-6840. Bad news if the number’s engaged!
And if something goes wrong, which it frequently does, the operator is usually Hispanic or Mexican, dimmer than a switched off lightbulb, and rude if the question involves any thought process. And if they don’t know the answer, they just hang up. Alternatively, if, as is likely, you get through to a menu driven system, you usually have the following options:
“If you’d like to hold for 20 minutes and then be disconnected, press 1. If you’d like to be disconnected now, press 2. Please make your choice now”. Bah!

One thing they have got right is the cars. It’s not surprising that public transport is not so popular, especially in the more rural areas, although of course land layouts and demographics account largely for this. The cars are so big and comfortable. Armrests, cup holders, coin holders, pen holders, air-conditioning, ABS brakes, cruise control power windows, power mirrors, auto gearbox…just about everything to keep you from staying awake at 65 mph, which seems to be the speed limit. (Except in Montana, where they just don’t have a speed limit. But no-one lives there anyway).

The weather is quite spectacular here. Being in the mountains, the temperature difference can be as much as 40 degrees F between night and day. We’ve had days as high as 102, and nights as low as 60. Some days can be ridiculously humid as well, which plays a large part in the misery factor. 102 degrees in dry heat is fine, but with 90% percent humidity is just unbearable. To give an indication of the humidity, the de-humidifier on the car air conditioning probably extracts at least a pint of water in ten minutes. You can usually guarantee a spectacular storm every week. The roads flow like rivers, and the sky lights up as if on fire. The first big storm we had produced a cloud which flickered orange for nearly 25 minutes continuously. It was like the sky was on fire. People stood and watched, but no-one can explain it. I assume it was just a continuous electrical discharge within the cloud. We also had a tornado touch down about a mile from camp too, bringing about some small-
scale damage. Last weeks storm was the biggest and best yet, with the storm right overhead, and lightning striking just yards away. The weather can change from bright sun to flash flood in just 15 minutes, but can also bring with it some spectacular sunsets.

The police farce [sic] is a law unto itself. If a citizen wishes to cut his hedge, you can usually guarantee at least 15 cop cars and a pack of sniffer dogs to wave the traffic by. It’s not unusual to see 5 or 6 speed traps a day on travels around this part of New England. Which means that a radar detector is almost mandatory, and at $29 dollars, I invested too. They have “catch you out” speed limits, where a wide open road will have a limit change from 55 to 25 for a few hundred yards, and you can bet there’s a speed trap just around the corner. The police developed a radar detector detector. So the radar detector manufactures developed an anti-radar detector detector. But the police now use pulse radar, where they only zap a car they think is speeding. I myself have been caught out, but I was let off, because I work for Greylock, and so do most of the chiefs of police for this area! Incidentally, speeding tickets are the main source of revenue for the police, if that helps you comprehend.

Camp philosophy is something of an anathema. It seems to be all about dollars and false altruism. I caught a kid late on night trying to untie a boat, cos he really wanted to run away. The next day, I heard the camp director on the phone; “Your son is just loving it here, Mrs Weinbergersteinman…..” There is a very obvious hierarchy and division between the American and English staff. “They” can be so cliquey at times, as if we were poisoning “their” camp and country. Nope, it’s just that the contract would break minimum wage laws for Americans. That’s why we’re here! Great advantage is taken of the fact that there is virtually no contract in camps, and they over-hire, and then fire at will, leaving many foreign staff broke, and having to go back home feeling bitter. The kids themselves seem to enjoy it, and so they should…it’s cost their parents nearly a thousand dollars a week! There are many activities, and this is primarily a sports camp.

One reason the counsellors who DO return each year do so is because of the wonderful feeling of appreciation and respect you get from the campers. If you can make them play baseball just that little bit better, or to water-ski for the first time, it really does seem worth it. This really is a “rich-kids camp”, and as such, I was concerned that it was just going to be 400 spoilt brats. But I was wrong. There are some very interesting and intelligent kids here. Some of them know perhaps a little too much for their age as we might think, but it doesn’t seem to have done them any harm! Yesterday, I gave Zachary and Charlie a lift to Logan Airport in Boston. They are both ten years old, and look like sweet innocent little angels. They were heading back to LA, and we were discussing the riots of 4 years ago. Not only were they fully aware of the whole situation, but came out with little gems like…

“I think the police think they can get away with it. I mean, King didn’t deserve that beating. But they don’t give a flying fuck what happens. They suck like a cheap whore…badly!” That was quoted verbatim. Bearing in mind these were pre-pubescents with un-broken voices, it was a moment that I wish I could have captured on tape. But they said I was “real neat! The best!”, and so, with happy heart and full fuel tank, I turned around, and proceeded to sit in the Boston traffic for 2 and a half hours…..

The camp is in quite a good location. The nearest towns, Pittsfield and Lee, are 20 miles away, although there are village shops and post offices nearby. Boston is about 150 miles North, and New York City about 250 miles south. The campers get to go on four day trips to places like cape cod and Canada, or a night on the town in Boston.

American mechanical engineering seems to be built big, ugly, and purely functional. Which is also how they seem to build their middle aged women. But impressive as well. I sat at a railroad crossing, and decided to count the goods wagons on the passing train. 97 wagons pulled by four locomotives took 2 minutes and 35 seconds to pass. Oh dear…I hope I’m not turning into a trainspotter!

Well, I guess I’m down to making random observations now, like “why do they pronounce Nissan knee-son, or Honda Honday?”. Also have anomalies like being able to do a right turn against a red light, except in New York City, where pedestrians get a “Walk” sign, at the same time as the crossing traffic gets a green signal.

It may be that I’m sounding ungrateful to be here in the USA. That’s not the case. I’m in a position many would envy. I have many many more places to go, and things to see and do. But I leave you for this time with the thoughts of some maintenance staff of previous years, which, along with the “Welcome to Hell” signs, weave a rich tapestry of indelible ink on the bunk walls……

Tags: america,massachusetts,summer camp,travelogue,usa
Categories: america, camp greylock, massachusetts, travelogue
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