Won’t You Meet My Neighbors

Wanna come along with me as I drive my borrowed golf cart around this RV resort and wave at the neighbors?

Right here on my “street” you can see what a different place this is now that the late-comers have pulled in. As soon as Christmas was done, RVs from all over the U.S. and Canada lined up at the entrance to check in, and the ones parked in the storage lot were towed to the last open spots. This place is full!

Okay, there’s Neighborhood Watch Neighbor, who has his eye on all activity in the resort and is eager to let everyone know that he does.

On your left is the campsite of Ukulele Teen, the girl whose golf cart I’m borrowing. Stay away as long as you’d like, Ukulele Teen Family!

Ah, there’s Chair Yoga Teacher. She’s from Idaho but has been a full-timer for seven years now. She and her husband have been to all 50 states and can’t really see a reason to settle down in a single one. So they keep going. I hear you, Chair Yoga Teacher.

Here comes another golf cart—it’s Bluegrass Festival Teen. She and Ukulele Teen are fast friends; they’re both full-timers homeschooled, so when they met a few months ago at another campground, they became instant friends. Woohoo!

Banjo is best friends with Bluegrass Festival Teen and can differentiate the sound of her golf cart coming near our site over all the others. Wave! She’s got her sister’s dog Paco running along beside her cart because she feels sorry for him. Her sister is not the best dog owner, according to Bluegrass Festival Teen.

Bluegrass Festival Teen helps original Yoga Instructor (the regular kind of yoga) capture stray dogs and cats around here. Yoga Instructor has caught (or sheltered) nine animals so far. There she is, walking her bouncy ponytail down the road. She provides spa services at the club house, which may not be legal? I don’t know how that works, but it’s not my business. (Maybe Neighborhood Watch Neighbor will fill me in.) I do know that Yoga Instructor is one busy lady.

There’s Young Hip Dude, who’s parked near us with his wife and small child; they run an RV tank cleaning service that they advertise with a fancy wrap-around sticker on their truck. He stopped to check on me when I wrecked my bike, and I keep meaning to thank him again. Problem is, when he’s walking by our site, he’s got his daughter on a tricycle and an energetic dog on a leash, and the whole crew gives Banjo the willies. I’ll catch him childless and dogless soon.

Oh, there’s the lady who volunteers as the activities coordinator. She has her hand in everything: nightly cards, bingo, pickleball, happy hour with food trucks and a DJ, you name it. I haven’t been going to these, partly because of my limited mobility and grumpiness and partly because I’m avoiding the dude who kind of propositioned me in the hot tub once. Life with neighbors you just met and can’t really avoid is weird.

Oh, wonderful, there’s the lady who works at the front desk. She doesn’t know what a fax machine is, but her mom makes really good tamales that she sells from the front deck. Also maybe not a regulated business. I’m grateful for the tamales, though.

Ah, there’s the other Airstream on our road. That couple just returned from Costa Rica, where they lived in a cabana on a mountainside for nine years. When they wanted to come back to the States, they bought an Airstream and a truck, and now they’re driving around trying to pick a state to live in. I see a theme here.

This is me getting out of this RV park for a change, having lunch at Lola’s Bistro right on a resaca on New Year’s Eve. Cheers, neighbors! Both local and virtual. Best wishes for positive things in 2024.