I’m sure Dottie Swaggert, the property manager, was going to be very helpful in getting my feet wet. So many things rolled around in my head and firing Dottie was one of them, but why would I do that when I was going to sell it anyways. It didn’t appear that her salary was that much. I’d decided that any big decisions that needed to be made would be after I’d been there and taken in a few rays by the sparkling lake.
“This is way out here,” I talked to myself after I’d driven out of town and into the country, hugging a few of the curvy roads that tickled my stomach. “The entrance should be here somewhere.”
I leaned over the big steering wheel and looked out of the windshield.
“Happy Trails Campground.” I read the faded words on a piece of propped up wood that looked as if it’d once arched over the entrance like the one in the brochure.
Pushing back the notions that this was a sign of what the campground looked like in person, I forged ahead, figuring they were in the process of having a brand-new sign installed. If not, it’d be the first thing on my list. The folder Stanley had given me was in the middle console between me and the passenger seat. I grabbed it. I wrote down a list of to-do’s and repainting or buying a new sign was the first thing that would go on that list.
“And pavement,” I murmured to myself as I wrote down a second to-do after the ticking sound of the gravel spitting up underneath the tires of the camper caught my attention. “No one likes gravel.”
It was just a minor detail I wasn’t going to let spoil my much-needed vacation in my fancy campground. At least Paul had done something right by me.
The sun was shining and the backdrop of the Daniel Boone National Park made up for any ugly sign. I couldn’t wait to park this thing and plop down into a lawn chair next to the lake and let the bright sun warm my face. That’d make me feel a little better. I was sure of it.
Pulling onto the grounds itself, I could see that there were plenty of trees for shade. There were storage units on the right like Stanley had said. The brochure did say that campers who were here an extended time were able to rent those, which probably brought in more income for me. There was a small building in front of the storage units with peeling letters on the glass door that read: OFFICE.
“That just needs a little cleaning,” I said, stopping the RV in front of it before I wrote that on the list.
A little further down was a community recreation room, exactly like the brochure had said, though it needed a good coat of paint, or a bulldozing down. Either way, it too had to be a minor detail.
A detail that I didn’t think was so minor was the lush green Kentucky bluegrass that I’d read about and seen in the photos in the brochure that was in reality, brown and burnt looking.
“Am I at the right place?” I questioned and picked up my phone to make sure the GPS had taken me to the right place. “I guess so.” I shrugged and wrote down that I might need to get some sod.
Driving a little further, and around what was supposed to be the lake and tiki bar, there were a cluster of rundown cabins.
I brought the camper to an abrupt halt after I’d made the complete loop around the grounds. My jaw dropped. I picked up the brochure from the passenger seat and looked back and forth.
“Nooooo.” I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I shoved the gear shift into PARK. The entire Happy Trails campground was nothing like the brochure.
The tiki bar consisted of two posts and a wood plank across them with a caved in roof, not the plush and vibrant bar with stools and little lights and people smiling. I gulped. My eyes slid across the lake and the beach. Again, I referred back to the brochure.
The glass blue lake with the people hanging out on the dock with their toes dipped in and a smile on their face, a fruity drink next to them and lawn chairs along the beach was nowhere in sight. I was looking at a green film floating on top of a mucky brown piece of water with a small dock that had missing planks. There wasn’t a single lawn chair on the dry dirt.
I looked up and around. In the distance and off a couple of different roads, there were concrete pads with some grass between them. Some of the lots were filled with campers and some were empty. According to the brochure, all the lots were filled with happy campers, twinkling lights, and smiling people. Where were my people? I gulped. Where were the crazy designed twinkly lights people hung outside of their campers? My heart dropped into my gut. I should’ve known this wasn’t going to pan out and Paul screwed me again.
Just as I was about to jerk the gear shift into drive and get out of dodge, someone banged on the RV door.
Knock! Knock!
My nerves were shot. I fumbled to unbuckle the seatbelt, hopped over the console into the living part of the camper and pushed the door open.
“What do you want?” The voice was hidden by a puff of smoke.
“You almost gave me a heart attack on top of the one I’m currently having!” I yelled, trying to see through the smoke.
There was a fairly older woman standing about five foot nine with pink foam curlers clipped all over her red hair. Her green satin pajamas matched her fuzzy slippers.
“I’m Dottie Swaggert. What’ll I do you for?” She asked and took a long slow drag from the cigarette in her right hand, while her left hand rested on her jutted-out hip.
“Is this Happy Trails Campground?” I asked.
The sun beat down on me when I stepped out of the camper.
“Mmmhmmm.” She drew in a big breath. The coals at the end of her cig light up bright red like her hair color as she sucked in. “One and only.” She stared at me from behind a puff of smoke.
“In Normal, Kentucky?” I fanned my hand in front of me so she didn’t get her smoke in my face or my house on wheels.
“Mmhhhh. One and only.” She chomped on a piece of gum and smoked at the same time. She put her fingers with her cig stuck between them up to her temple. She closed her eyes. “Let me think.” She tapped her head. “You must be Mae West.”
“Oh gosh.” My stomach knotted. My go-get ‘em attitude was wavering. I reached over the back of the passenger seat and grabbed the brochure. “Where is this Happy Trails?” I shook the brochure at her.
“Honey, you look as confused as a cow on Astroturf,” she cackled.
“What?” I questioned. “What does a cow and Astroturf have to do with anything?”
“They are gonna eat you alive,” she said in a smug delight. “Paradise awaits.” Dottie’s lip cocked up on the right side as she smacked her gum and swept her hands out in front of her. “It’s all yours.”
She turned around and laughed like a mad woman on her way to a small trailer that didn’t have a way to drive. It looked like it was just plopped down and the trailer hook up was casually resting on two cinderblocks.
“Dottie! Wait!” I hollered, kicking dust up under my feet as I chased her. “This isn’t right. This isn’t what the brochure shows.”
I let the part about being eaten alive just wash over me. Dottie Swaggert was someone I needed at this moment and fussing with her wouldn’t do me any good.
“Honey, that brochure was printed well over twenty years ago when it was booming around here. The National Park is still going strong and when tourists come to town, they take one look at Happy Trails and high-tail it on out of Normal, finding a campground in another town.” She dropped her cigarette on the ground and used the toe of her shoe to snuff it out. She turned back around, walking to the camper.
“Where’s the Kentucky Bluegrass? We are in Kentucky.” I looked around with the brochure in my grips and hurried towards her. When I was a kid growing up in Kentucky, I never paid attention to the grass, I just wanted to get out of there. “Shouldn’t there be the famous Bluegrass?”
“What we got here is fine Kentucky dirt.” She bent down and picked up a handful of the driest soil. “We like to sprinkle it around like fairy dust and make wishes.” She threw it in the air, letting out a big cackle.
“You’re teasing me, right?” I wasn’t sure how to take Dottie.
“You are a city girl,” she said to herself like she was confirming her immediate perception of me. She continued in a fast-paced walk towards her camper.