EDITOR'S NOTE: The following post was written days ago, but in real life... I got cut off by a minivan tonight. Angry, I pulled up beside them to see that it was 2 nuns. Just made the night that much better. Home cookin', windows down, and nuns who can't drive.
Sunday rolls around. The agenda is straightforward: breakfast and filming. Before I finished my Chick-Fil-A sandwich, the shirts are ready and an offer is made on my tye-dye apparel: $10 and the other guy’s shirt, which happened to look every bouncy ball made before 1995.
Offer rejected. I didn’t go to one of the finest business schools on the planet for nothing. Well, I didn’t go to one of the finest business schools, but it was fine enough to teach me two concepts useful in this situation. The second was supply and demand – my shirt was better than everyone else’s, I could name my price. This concept was preceded by one of the concepts that built the foundation of modern society – outsourcing. Another thanks to Madeline, my personal tye-dyer.
Time to film. Well, time to walk through it a few more times and then try to film. A little background on this adventure…
Each year at camp, we have a theme. Usually this theme involves at least some of the staff to dress in ridiculous costumes. I have yet to be outside of the “some” mentioned in the previous sentence.
For the music video, it has been decided that some of the favorite characters from the past will be included. One problem: the lip-dub concept requires one continuous shot, and some of the cast have played several roles over the years… While we did re-visit the outsourcing well, more often than not, it was decided that those playing multiple roles should continue to do so and just sprint between parts while changing clothes. Cool.
The expected production time was set at an hour. I took the over. It was quickly changed to an hour and a half. I remained faithful to the over.
16 to 24 costume changes, half a container of baby powder, and 37 minutes later, we were done. Color me impressed. I’ve never been happier to lose a bet. Chicken sandwiches for all.
EDITOR'S NOTE: This is probably a bad idea...
Our efficiency left us with no more tasks to accomplish before the campers arrived. Naps, thin pickle slices, and a couple of hours of iPod shuffle all filled the void. This would be the last time the shuffle all would be allowable for fear of the occasional questionable lyric.
As I mentioned, the kids arrived early and often. We didn’t let them inside until 3. The early bird may get the worm, but if you’re early in the middle of the day at the end of July, you may also get a heat stroke.
Registration commenced. I posted up on the second stop in the assembly line. The joy of this spot is that it’s merely a hardcopy version of the excel work done at the first stop. As such, I was of no importance, and it gave me a way to start trying to learn all the kids’ names. [Note: You may read that as me taking a genuine interest in the campers. Or you may read that as me looking for those random few seconds of joy when you approach a kid, call them by name, and know full well they have no idea who you are… After reading that again, I feel I should promise not to trade in the Altima for a white van with no windows.]
After registration and before dinner, the first camp couple was formed. If there’s one thing church camp is good for besides stitches, capture the flag, and swimming in water that will probably give you a staph infection, it’s breeding long-lasting relationships.
Remaining highlights from Sunday included one counselor wearing a luchador mask for the duration of the afternoon a-la-Rey-Mysterio, the two most popular kids in camp arriving (the youth minister’s 18 month-old twins), the first two visits to the first aid kit, an episode of Family Feud where we learned that a squash is allegedly a fruit, a pretty sweet night time devotional illuminated by the Christmas lights adorning the Hollywood Squares set, and some minimal cabin conversation that may have revolved around that crazy lady in California who was quite familiar with the garbage disposal.
If you missed it, click Here for Day 1.
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