On Nylon Walls and Privacy

The hubby and I go camping quite a bit. Our specialty is car camping: load the truck up with tent, sleeping bags, air mattresses, awning, stove, tiki torches, various chairs, food and booze coolers; drive to a campground somewhere, park, unload, set up, and have a cocktail to celebrate. We also camp at large multi-day festival concerts: we've been to the Philly Folk Fest and Bonnaroo. We volunteer at Folk Fest. Fest is a somewhat different beast - you can't leave your car in the camping area. If you're a volunteer like us, you can drive in early, drop your stuff off, and then set up. Paying customers have to carry everything in, which leads to an amazing assortment of carts and wagons, both handmade and store bought. It also leads to amazingly dense campsites - throughout most of the campground, the tents are placed edge to edge, with small clearings in the middle of different clusters for living space. So privacy is pretty much out. If you want to have a little nookie, you've got to have seriously repressed tent sex, 'cause everyone in the vicinity is going to hear you if you don't.

Read on for more tent sex... (you pervs!)
Of course, around 4:00 am after a night of drinking, sometimes you just kinda forget and go with the moment. The hubby and I woke up to the sound of some chick whose tent was opposite ours in the next campsite arriving with her hot date of the evening. "See, I told you it was a mansion," says she. "C'mon, honey, indoor voice," I mutter. The zipping sound of the tent door opening and closing, and then the hot date says "wow, the air mattress is so cushy." "Yeah, and I got blankets coming outta my ass!" Jeff and I have a good chuckle. Better see a doctor about that. So after a little more small talk, they settle in and get down to business. "Uh, uhh, Uhh, UHHH, UHHHHHH, uhhhhh...." "Uh, uhh, Uhh, UHHH, UHHHHHH, uhhhhh...." "Uh, uhh, Uhh, UHHH, UHHHHHH, uhhhhh...." At this point, no one in the area has any pretense of sleeping, we're just listening to the show. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he goes. Ruh roh, you may be done, but ya didn't get her there yet buddy. Not to worry, he obligingly lends a helping hand. We're tempted to applaud when she finally does get off, but refrain from spoiling the moment. Now they can cuddle close, kiss, and go to sleep in each others arms. "I guess I better go back to my campsite," says he. The cad. "Better go wash your hand," she helpfully advises. Oh. My. Gawd. How we managed not laughing out loud I'll never know.

Next morning, we hit that point around 9:00 am when it just gets too hot in the tent to keep sleeping. Everyone starts moving about; the first pot of coffee is brewed, and we slowly start becoming verbal. So it doesn't take long to start talking about the sexcapades from the night before. "Man, did you hear that last night?" "I thought it was you!" "No, it was from that tent over there." We never did see who was actually in that tent, which is probably for the best. But the best thing out of the whole, er, affair was when our fearless leader Ned told us how to avoid such embarrassing situations: a bachelor tent! You set up a small tent out in the middle of the campground where you don't know anyone, and just go there when you want some privacy. Since no one knows who you are, and you're never there any other time, you can have all the noisy fun you want! Now that's my kind of tent sex!