Losing It

Our intrepid columnist goes camping and finds it a bare-bones affair

A A A Comments By Steven Devadanam Thursday, Aug 17 2006

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"Are you vacationing this summer?" asks Sam, who saves me. Her innocent questions about my life are so random, my attention shifts from panic attack to my upcoming trip. I glance around the table and the room. Folks are chatting and laughing and happily noshing. Moms urge their kids to eat their veggies. Bare male and female breasts hang dangerously close to the hot food on paper plates. Men sit back in their chairs and pick at their teeth and other body parts. But above the shoulders, it's a classic dinnertime scene.

An odd feeling of guilt washes over me. Like ugly tan-line guy at the pool, these people are completely at ease. They've invited me to break bread. We're dining together, sharing stories of family and friends. There's no talk of anything gross. Sure, Mom taught me never to go to anyone's house for dinner naked. But she also taught me to be a gracious guest, and to now suddenly freak out at my new friends seems immature and disingenuous.

Courtesy of Natural Horisun Inc

This ain't no nudist colony. This is a nudist party.

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People are cleaning up, taking out the trash. They're all making a beeline for the door.

"What's up?" I ask Lucille, looking squarely at her hairline.

"Pool time! And you're gettin' in!"

After a few very uncomfortable minutes in the pool (I nearly lose it again when a naked body brushes up against me), I make my way toward my towel and clothes. Music is thumping through the club speakers, and Jose, Jim's partner, is getting jiggly in a ring of nude dancers. As I weave through the tables and chairs, he grabs me by the hand and starts twirling me.

"I usually don't dance with men, especially naked men...," I say to him. He'll have none of it. Not when I've already dropped my inhibitions and my shorts here.

Aw, hell, what's a little naked Macarena among friends?

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