Campground host Bull, in a China shop

When I first arrived for employee housing, I met a man who just went by the name Bull.  Pushing 70, he could pass for 50.  Bull has the number 1 site for his trailer (literally, site #1), where he kept a less than personable blue healer (among other canines), a wife, and a unknown amount of ammunition and canned food.  Well, I can only confirm the dogs.

Plates where from Texas, but I have found out in a trailer park (sorry, RV park) plates are only needed on the highway to stop The Man from hassling you when going to your next ‘stay.’ So, their validity in not mandatory.  His job here is camp host.  He basically checks you in, gives you an employee parking sticker, and tells you to be sure to mow the grass in front of what passes for a seasonal domicile.

 

Bull is either staying for free and/or gets some kind of stipend, because other duties include cleaning the common kitchen area and attached shower/bathroom facilities. Which are reminisce of Midnight Express or Papillon, or any gas station 100 miles south of the boarder in Mexico. One should clearly not attached the banous to the banquet hall, but what do I know? I DO know that the septic was pumped for the first time in decades this season, and they ‘found’ it right under the employee outdoor BBQ and picnic tables. But what Bull can do with a firehose and a gallon of bleach is not the focus here.  The common kitchen is where the real magic happens.

Soooo…  a common kitchen at an employee only Xanterra owned RV park.  What could go wrong? That means to anyone who didn’t bring their own trailer, this is their cook house. Only game in town. Therefore the clientele is mainly the younger seasonal workers who were assigned cabins, and this is their hot spot for making meals and interacting. Bonus: Since I do much of my writing here, I did discover there must be at least one direct wall vent from the bathhouse on the other side that allows the conversations to come thru.  I’m a gentleman. None of that will ever find it’s way into my blog. Even the times I blushed.

The simple rule is you clean up after yourself.  Things like pots/pans/silverware/plates etc. etc.   There are many posted signs that explain this, and show examples of what not to do in pictures. Because it is assumed no one here can read.  It seems Bull spent some time in the army, and he sees everyone who uses the kitchen as his own personal Charlie Company.  When one person messes up, the entire company messes up, so everyone pays the price and that is how self-governing works.  At least in Full Metal Jacket. Or any South American dictatorship.

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I’ve seen all the Vietnam movies of the 80’s, so I get it.  Whenever someone would leave dishes in the sink dirty or pots on the stove, Bull would come in and confiscate them when no one was around.  Basically, box them up and put them in storage.  If you can’t clean up, you can’t use common equipment.  Great idea, but poor execution.  How so?  Because he never told anyone about this policy. 

Stuff just kept disappearing until there was only one fork left in the drawer and someone started to use the microwave rotating tray as an actual plate. There just wasn’t anything else.  And things just kept on this way for weeks.  It didn’t affect me, because I normally eat one real meal at the employee cafeteria and had my own basic cutlery I brought from home and safely stowed in my ‘assigned’ drawer. I knew the stuff in a shared cooking area would be like eating off props from a slasher sci-fi movie. I don’t trust anything that hasn’t been cleaned by my hands (or my Bosch dishwasher) to go into my mouth.  But the floor was kept pretty clean, so the five second rule still applied here.

Then we got some new people, and they are ‘what they hell?’ and complained to HR about the horrible living conditions. Remember people started out paying room and board. Then the labor went critical so board was free. But even with free lodging there is still somewhat of an expectation to have something to eat with/on.  Admin must have chewed Bull’s ass a little, because out of nowhere comes two moving boxes of kitchen stuff (mostly cleaned by whatever mice were in the storage room – but they did a pretty good job). 

Wow.   It was like a cross between Christmas and grandma’s attic exploding, with just a touch of Antiques Road show.  Suddenly there now was one or everything, in every color of the rainbow. A Goodwill dream come true. Us Kitchen-ittes bonded together, and with both double sinks going, we had a good old-fashion pot and pan washing party that would have rivaled a Amish barn raising.

So with a focused goal and a little teamwork, you really can get stuff done. At least we never had to charge Heartbreak Ridge as the ‘Coram RV Brigade’ this summer. General Bull and his Blue Healer would have been standing there all alone, as we Xanterra ‘seasonal-soldiers’ would have been too busy eating off of paper towels and rioting over who’s turn it was to use the last measuring spoon for their morning oatmeal.  

I definitely see this as a optimistic glass half-full experience.  And quite literally as well.  If not for the Great RV Park Kitchen Hardware Hoarding of 2021, I would have never found this awesome little ugly green Lyrica 12 oz coffee cup. It holds a Starbucks single serving instant coffee packet perfectly.   I’m writing GNP 21 on the side with a Sharpie, and now have a very meaningful and personal souvenir that perfectly befits this summer.   

Thank you for the fine China, Bull.  Could not have found it without you.