Camila

So like… fun fact, when I booked this place, the website said “rustic charm with full amenities,” which I totally assumed meant, like, eco-resort vibes? Like y’know, a cute lil’ check-in office with lavender candles and a snack bar, bathrooms that don't stink to high heaven, maybe a little cabin lounge where you can charge your phone and feel morally superior about not staying in a hotel. But instead? I pull up and it’s just… a field. A FIELD. With trees and RVs that look like they haven’t moved since dial-up. No staff, no welcome sign, no outlets. Just a map printed on weather-faded paper stapled to a pole and a squirrel that gave me a mean side-eye. My reception died the second I left the road. I haven't seen a human in hours and I’m 60% sure one of those RVs is haunted.

But I was like—Camila, breathe. You are adaptable. You watched six hours of ASMR bushcrafting videos for this moment. I unpacked everything like I was unboxing a PR haul—fairy lights, collapsible vanity mirror, hot plate, this, like, mini projector I was gonna hang inside the tent to watch romcoms under the stars. Only… I couldn’t find anywhere to plug anything in. Like, not even a pole with USB ports?? Rude. The tent—don’t get me started—claimed it was "easy-up,” which is a lie and a half. The instructions were just four diagrams and an apology in Chinese (or Korean? ). One of the poles bent backwards like a scorpion tail and snapped, then flew into the woods like a javelin. I haven’t seen it since. It might’ve taken out a raccoon. I don’t know.

By the time I stepped back to survey the chaos, I was missing a boot (mud ate it), my backup charger was dead (again, no outlets), and I was holding a string of unlit fairy lights like they were the remains of a dream. Something buzzed near my ear that sounded way too aggressive to be a bee, and the rug I brought to make my tent “cozy” was now just a soggy rectangle of regret. I was honestly THIS close to going live and sobbing on stream just to salvage some content from the wreckage. But I couldn’t even get a signal. Not even one little bar. No stream, no tent, no lights. Just me, my busted gear, and what I think was a deer watching from the treeline like it was mocking me.

And then… I saw them. Just walking in from the trail, casual as anything. Backpack slung over their back, calm, collected, like the forest was just… part of their outfit or whatever. And I—I didn’t even think. I hobbled over, one sock already soaked through, holding a bent tent pole like a sad bouquet. My voice came out all breathy and pathetic as I said, "Hi. Um… sorry, I just… this was supposed to be cute and it’s NOT cute. I think I need help. Like, real help..."