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Every so often, Brandon asks me to go camping with him. On these occasions, I think back to my past camping experiences, and generally say no.
The last time I went camping, I was on a canoe trip on the Wisconsin River with a group from Northwestern. We camped on a sand dune, and just after we pitched our tents a thunderstorm whipped up. Most of us huddled in the tents, while another group ran from tent to tent pushing spikes back into the sand and generally keeping the tents standing against the fierce winds. After it blew over, we made a fire with damp logs and cooked dinner, watching the storm from over a tree bank. The lightening was amazing. We went to sleep, and I woke up in a puddle. It took forever to warm up.
The second-to-last time I went camping, it was in a little state park that happened to be a protected breeding ground of a type of black locust. My friend Mike and I camped in a dirt-floor site about 50 feet from a lake. The mosquitos were really bad, so Mike sprayed our tent with Off!, not realizing that the repellant would break the waterproof seal on the tent. Naturally, it rained, and we woke up with our heads in puddles. Our campground was a mudpit, so I got dressed standing on one of my shoes. Our dinner for the second night was stolen by raccoons, so we stole some pig corn from a farm next to a gas station. It tasted terrible, like pesticide.
Most of the times I went camping as a kid, it rained, and we ended up sleeping in puddles. The next time I go, I'll be sure to bring a towel, so I can dry off from the puddle that will surely be there. I'll also bring warm clothes, kept in a freezer bag until needed, and a lockable cooler to protect my food.
Then again, it'll probably still be several years before Bran convinces me to go camping again. I'll have plenty of time to prepare.