My Favorite Story as a Camper (Part II)
December 16, 2010 by Herzl Camp Admin, under Letters from Alumni.
By Danny Soshnik
…continued from part 1.
We all made it back in, but we needed to be quiet so as not to tip off to Brick that we were anything but asleep. This proved to be very difficult – we all had stories to share of close calls with other schmears. But we stayed disciplined.
A couple minutes passed, and we thought we were golden. And then, the light turned on in the screened in porch. We could hear the footsteps, and none of us dared move.
In walks Brick. My heart drops as he says, in a mock singing fashion, “Oh Danny Boy.” I fake sleep as he walks over to my bunk. “Why don’t you come with me.” I fake stumble as a recently woken boy out to the Schmear site where Brick, obviously angry and visibly wet (success – we did it!), sits down next to me.
“I was just schmearing, minding my own business. When suddenly I was hit by a water balloon.”
I’m not much of an actor (my partner in crime Bryan, now that’s a different story). And I wasn’t the type of kid who was often in and liked being in trouble. However, on this night, where everything was executed so pefectly, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.
I said to Brick, with the straightest emotionless face possible, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I don’t think he bought it. Busted…or so I thought.
As Brick was about to lay into me, taking me for every minute of Chofesh left in the session, the cry of an angel saved me. Actually it was less of a cry and more of a moan. And it wasn’t an angel – it was Ricky Ofstein. Back spasms. Bad ones. His pain, my gain.
Apparently earlier in the day Brick had given Ricky a bear hug, and threw out Ricky’s back. Funny, because if I were to lift Ricky, I’m sure it would throw out my back.
Anyway, he couldn’t have picked a better time to get spasms. He was in real pain. For anyone who knows Ricky, nothing he does is without dramatic effect. He was, from my perspective, a rockstar that night. And Brick, had to act upon it.
Long story short (too late), Ricky got in the van and went to the hospital. But not before, to add insult to injury, while sitting up in his bed, a super soaker fell from the rafters onto his head.
Just like that, the focus on my personal punishment was long over.
The next day I spoke to my friends across Kadimahland in Trzif Vav, and wondered how Brick knew it was us (me, specifically). Apparently, the water baloon that hit Brick came from the direction of Tzrif Vav. Brick, in his infinite wisdom, went in looking for the most likely culprit. Running into Vav, he screamed, “(Dan) Shapiro, G-D D#^!%IT!”. Dan, being the sellout he is, pleaded “It wasn’t me, it was Soshnik!” Thanks Dan.
As it turns out, we weren’t quite as cleared as we thought we were. We were told at breakfast that right before Nikayon, we had to go to Mary Lou’s office – all of us. I had never been to the director’s office, but safety in numbers, right?
She was none to thrilled. Told us about respect. Being dugmahot for the younger campers. All that stuff. Then, at a quiet, tense moment, Billy Rosenberg farted. Everyone heard it. Everyone, that is, except Mary Lou. Shefren couldn’t contain his laughter. Mary Lou was none too thrilled. She famously quoted, “You’ll never be Deavers!”
Of course, the Deaver program was based on lottery, not on merrit (thank goodness).
In the end, I think we lost chofesh for a night or two. But gained a memory for a lifetime. Oh, and of the 12 of us in tzrif Zayin, 6 went on to be Deavers. And of those 6, all were Ozrim two years later.
What’s the morale of the story? 1) If you’re going to break a rule, it’s best to do so with a moviestar. 2) Your best friends often end up being the ones who live across the way and will sell you out at a moment’s notice. 3) Stay close with those around you and they will bail you out with well-timed pain or flatulence in a desperate time of need.
Shabbat Shalom!