I have had few encounters with boyscouts. One for natural reasons and the second for natural reasons. I’m not a boy and I am usually not the first one attracted to a male in a khaki green flair. But I have a family full of them and I pass no judgments.
I only attended one ‘on-site’ camp day for families visiting their ‘scouts. I was mildly disgusted that it was commonly known as ‘big sister’s day.’ I spent most of the afternoon people-watching and occasionally serving a volleyball as hard as I could against the port-a-potties when there were unsuspecting victims inside (I know, it’s terrible…but also funny).
But the real reason I bring this up is to share that one of my best ‘coming of age’ experiences occurred around the presence of the boy scouts. DW (for internet purposes), was the glorified Boyscout leader for my brothers’ troop. He was a heavyset man–very heavyset. The kind where his nose was always stuffy and he was always in a state of disarray. But he was a darn good leader for the boys. Anyhow, after one of these troop meetings/discoveries (or whatever really happens there), my mom is driving and I’m in the passenger seat as we go to pick up my brother. My mom rolls down the window as she pulls into the driveway and DW starts waddling our way. He makes it to the window, which is eye-level with his shorts. His shorts have somehow done another trick that I find common in certain people who are unable to see below their chest. They have wadded up into a frontal wedgie. So high, I might add, that my mom and I both saw (at the same time) one entire member of his body hanging low…off to the right. My mom is fighting back laughter, because we both aren’t very good at this. She manages to roll up the window as we’re backing out, only to explode in laughter and tears. Gross. And semi-educational at the time.
I refused to go back and pick Thomas up with her ever again!