Community Shower Facilities

I’ve been camping before; since 1969 to be exact. I won’t tell how old I was then so I won’t burden you with how old I am now, needless to say I’m old enough to know better. As I was growing up, I went on the family camping vacations. We’d take the trailer and just head out to some part of the country and see the sights. For two weeks we’d live at a different campground most every night sometimes we’d stay two nights to see places like the Grand Canyon, Chattanooga Tennessee, or Mt. Rushmore. We’d restock the fridge along the way and cookout over the campfire.

Campgrounds, being what they were then, was a home way from home. Kids ran everywhere to play with. Everyone watched everyone else’s kids. It was a time to roam freely, to meet people across the country, to see the sights, with all the comforts of home.

Our first camper didn’t have a bathroom in it so the bathroom and shower facilities in the campgrounds were a necessity. And, it is that thought that gave me such relief this weekend to find clean facilities at the campground at Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

I had been at the campground 3 days now, staying with my two sisters-in-law on a get-away vacation from our families. “Just the girls,” is what Iris said when she suggested this cross country camping trip. So what could I say? “Sorry, but your brother John does not want me gone for two weeks?” or, “I prefer staying home to sleeping in a tent with one woman who thinks men are sex objects and wants to party every night and another woman who doesn’t want to look at another man since her divorce six months ago?” Nice try, but according to John, “I’d better go and keep them both safe.” Meaning keep Iris out of every strangers' bed and keep Betty from hiding away from everything life has to offer. It just beats me how, I always end up stuck in the middle. But here I am.

The day started off great. We donned our bathing suits, packed up the car with the beach paraphernalia, made sure everything at the tent was secure before heading out for surf and sand. I was actually looking forward to feeling the sand squish up between my toes. The five mile trip was easy. Just follow the highway to the village and we’d end up at the beach. After cursing the town, Iris wanted to park in the nearest parking lot to the beach. Figuring we’d only stay a couple of hours I insisted on the parking lot three blocks away. This would be a savings of eight dollars which to me made perfect sense. Betty agreed. Iris, on the other hand, could only see the savings when I explained we weren’t only saving eight dollars, but every man in town could see her in that new neon green bikini. Iris being a size seven with her long black hair and California tan saw the light. While Betty and I wore shorts and tank tops over our suits Iris strutted down the sidewalk, her towel stuffed in her beach bag.

We spread our towels in the warm sand close to the pier and walked out onto the wet hard sand the waves crashed up on. There was no wet swooshy sand to squish up between my toes. The beach was loaded with people sunbathing, running, playing Frisbee and ball. And the waves came in as white water crashing against me pushing me back to the beach then sucking me out to the blue water of the ocean. Yet, all I knew was the sand didn’t squish up between my toes like I’d been dreaming about every since we started to plan our trip. After wading across the hard beach and into the ocean, just to say we’d been swimming in the Atlantic, we lathered ourselves up and laid down for some serious tanning. Now tanning isn’t exactly my cup of tea, but Betty was enjoying it and Iris was in her element, so I laid there . . . baking.

Lunch was at the Seafood Pub on the pier. The lobster salad left something to be considered, but after two margaritas I was beginning not to care anymore. Iris made friends with a couple men playing pool and Betty even seemed to be enjoying herself as she joined Iris in a doubles match with the men. That led to a few more margaritas and soon my only thought was how far away the car was and how far away the air mattress was in our tent. I went back to the towels on the beach to “rest a minute”.

I had vague dreams of the sand sucking me down into it. I’m not sure how, but when I awoke I was back at the tent. My mouth felt fuzzy. I still wore my bathing suit. From the light of the campfire I could see Betty and Iris with their robes on, towels in their arms, headed for the showers. Sand gritted between my bathing suit and my skin. I stood unsteady at first then with more determination. I was going to take a shower too.

I’m not sure how late it was. Most of the campers lights were off; only a few people sat by their campfires. There were three or four people standing outside the showers. I didn’t look at them to notice if they were men or women, but I got the impression they were men. Inside I did not see Iris or Betty though it was clear two of the three showers were in use. A skinny teenager darted out of the third shower wearing some kind of stripped tee shirt and shorts. Her wet hair was wrapped up in a towel. She avoided my eyes and hurried past me to the outside and escape.

I’m not sure why I didn’t call out to Betty and Iris to let them know I was there; I suppose I thought I was slick slipping into the third shower stall. I’d be done before they knew I’d even been there. The warm water flowed over my body washing away the salt and sand from the beach relaxing me. I lathered my hair and began briskly massaging my fingers into my scalp each movement clearing brain matter, releasing thoughts.

I heard a shower door bang shut. Betty called out for Iris to wait for her. Then the banging of the outside door. And silence.

Water sprayed against the white, plastic shower curtain in my stall.

I’ll be fine, I thought. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. Finish washing then go back to the tent.

The screen door spring creaked as it opened slowly. The drumming of the shower pounded against my head, my back. The door banged shut. I felt my heart hammering my chest. Why had I been so stupid? Why hadn’t I called out to Betty and Iris when I got there or asked them not to leave without me?

My ears strained against the shower spray listening for any sound I could make out. Something scrapped against the concrete floor outside the shower stalls. Little scrapings. My door rattled.

I swallowed back the bile that threatened to erupt into my mouth. I wanted to scream. I had no idea how I could protect myself, only that a man had entered the shower room and he was now discreetly trying my shower door to see if it was locked. If I screamed would anyone hear me?

My heart pounded. My blood hardened in my veins. My arms wouldn’t move. My breath came in slow short intakes. I couldn’t stay in there forever. Sadly I knew I couldn’t protect myself either. Nothing sensible entered my mind. No plan of escape formed. I turned the shower off quickly even before I had washed completely. Again I strained to hear any noise. The wooden shower stall door rattled as though someone was trying to open it.

“No. No, Ashley,” a woman’s voice said. “Someone’s in that one. We’re going in here.”

I peeked out from behind the plastic shower curtain in time to see the chubby cheeks and clear eyes of a small child squatted down to look under the shower stall door. Her face flashed a bright smile as she saw me.