Glamping

I mentioned to some coworkers that I was going camping on an old airfield in Brooklyn, and they told me I wasn't going camping -- I was going "glamping." Glamour camping.

I couldn't get that upset because, yes, it's not exactly the wilderness; we heard car alarms going off, and planes from JFK were roaring overhead all night. But convenience was more than an arm's length away -- we had to take the 2 to the end of the line, then take a bus, then walk for about a half hour to our campsite, which was situated in a scrubby patch of trees not too far from the oily shores of Jamaica Bay. We were within sight of an abandoned airplane hangar, which was creepy, but otherwise we were semi-surrounded by trees and brush, which was cool. We would have had the whole campground to ourselves was it not for the family of four that barged in on our peace... though I'm sure they weren't expecting a gang of rowdy twenty-somethings, either. Their loss.

The campsite -- and our new tent! 

Steve, walking across what was once tarmac 

Abandoned hangar 

The "beach" 

Old airstrip 

Don et al

We are absolutely looking to go back, and if anyone is interested at all, let me know. It's annoying to get there, but just getting outdoors for a couple days presses reset and fixes all sorts of city ailments. Don and I have mad camping equipment -- stove, warm clothes, awesome towels -- which we like to use as often as we can to keep our skills fresh. Need to practice for California...