Our first mistake was packing a tent and sleeping bags. In Florida, at least near Cape Canaveral, it seemed that camping meant bringing an RV the size of a duplex. And stuffing it with all your earthly possessions and every piece of lawn furniture on sale at the local McDiscount Store. After all, you can’t possibly commune with nature without a picnic table and Weber grill.

We had our choice of two beachside campgrounds. The first was about the size of a soccer field. It resembled an RV lot, or showroom, to be more precise. There were a few square feet of open space left at each spot, occupied by families or retirees who had managed to direct their lawn chairs at a scenic view of…other RVs. Dogs had playhouses bigger than our tent. A few campers hung Confederates flags outside their doors. We chose the second campground.

But even the second had a country-club-esque quality of its own. There were sparkling clean bathrooms, and washers, dryers, and dispensers for detergent. It was a larger campground, but the size just meant we were surrounded by more RVs, full-size SUVs, and pick-up trucks. The few tents that were there seemed more appropriate for housing circus acts.

We chose a spot that had a few shrubs to block our view of the neighbors, and spent about 10 minutes pitching the tent and unrolling the sleeping bags. Then we noticed that the previous campers had left a surprise. It was a piece of carpeting, so we could wipe our feet before going “indoors”.

We gave up trying to rough it, even a little. As the saying goes: if you can’t beat ‘em… We started up the car and drove the half-mile to the supermarket. We picked up pre-cooked sausages, fixings for s’mores, and a few bottles of Negro Modelo. At the last minute, we decided against wine and brie. We still had some dignity left.

- by Diana Kuan of Indietrekker fame