No Mas

Just like Roberto Duran, I say no mas. I have had enough. What once was a place of stoke has now become a gulag. Well maybe that is an exaggeration. But you get my drift.

With the recent change of season from spring to summer, the campground seems different and not in a positive way. It is drier, dustier with June gloom mornings. There are more campers committed to raving in the their campsites, loosing their dogs, and jamming their generators. Did I mention the free range, barely civilized children circling the campground like velociraptors. Everyone is a DJ providing more types of music than is available on Sirius radio. Shower rooms in the evening are best entered wearing waders.

What's with all the so-called service dogs. They are abundant. I rarely see any services being provided by such dogs. Mostly, it seems they are surrogate children, pampered and indulged. Doing early morning rounds, I have often seen unleashed dogs peeing and pooping on the beach with owners nearby with no doggie bags in hand.

Do not get me started on the misuse and abuse of handicapped parking placards.

By every morning, the campground has become a Motel 3, not even measuring up to Motel 6 standards. Trash cans are stuffed with every conceivable type of refuse. Fruit and vegetable refuse is left on the beach since it is biodegradable not needing to be canned.

Let me be clear that the maintenance folks really do a good job of cleaning and repairing the facilities. For about three hours each day, the campground looks presentable. Thereafter, the cycle of degradation begins.

If I sound like a grumpy old man, sleep deprived and generally pissed off, I might be. But be assured that each camper is treated politely. After all, everyone is special in this campground. I just need to go home.