I do not like camping.  I like my house and my bed and my shower.  I guess that means I’m weird.  Men are supposed to like camping.  When I was eight, my father took me on our first and last camping trip together.  It was the worst weekend of my life. It was freezing cold.  It rained.  We went for a hike, and I got lost.  My dad had tried to teach me how to use a compass.  We walked for a mile while he talked about north, south, east and west.  I was cold and bored, so I didn’t listen very well.  He left me with the compass and told me to find my way back.  My dad says I wasn’t lost for very long.  It felt like a whole day.  I swear it was dark when my dad found me, but he says there was plenty of light.  The food tasted like dirt.  The sodas were warm even though the temperature was below zero.  My sleeve caught on fire when I tried to warm my hands.  And my dad would not stop talking about survival. “Tommy, if you practice these 33 survival tips, you might be able to live in the woods for up to 4 weeks.”  I have never been so happy to get home.  My company recently transferred me to Denver, Colorado.  I heard that winters in Denver are almost as cold as Alaska.  My new co-workers have invited me to go hiking or camping several times since I arrived.  I keep making excuses, because I do not want to tell them the truth.  My wife thinks I should just tell them.  My buddy from Texas thinks I should get over it, because I’m not eight anymore.  I’m afraid that if I go, I will make a complete fool of myself.  If I don’t go, they will quit asking.  If they quit asking, I won’t have any buddies to hang out with.  Back home, my buddies and I played golf every other Saturday.  I miss golf.  I thought about asking these guys if they want to play golf sometime.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that it was a bad idea.  They would think I was joking.  Wilderness stuff is what people here do for fun

Niko felt awful.  He didn’t know what was wrong.  He felt a pain in his stomach and a pain in his head.  His dad said he just needed a hard day’s work in the sun.  His mom gave him chicken soup.  His grandmother gave him menudo.  His aunt gave him green tea.  His wife gave him a hard time.  Nothing helped.

 So Niko went to the doctor.  In fact, he went to seven doctors. After a while he couldn’t remember their names, so he gave them numbers.  Each one said something different.

 Dr. Uno said he had a stomach virus.  He gave Niko pills.

Dr. Dos said he had food poisoning.  He pumped Niko’s stomach.

Dr. Tres thought it was an ulcer.  He told him to eat mashed potatoes and dry toast.

Dr. Cuatro did an ultrasound.  He didn’t find anything, but he gave Niko herbs and vitamins just in case.

Dr. Cinco said it was in his head.  He sent him to a head doctor.

Dr. Seis asked a lot of questions but he didn’t have any answers.  He said, “Mmmm…very interesting,” and “How do you feel about your mother’s chicken soup?”  

 “I feel pain!” Niko said.  He wanted to scream, “Pain from the questions, pain from the pills, and pain from the doctors!” But he kept quiet.  Dr. Seis sent Niko to Dr. Siete for tests. 

Dr. Siete made Niko look at cards with messy ink stains.  He made Niko read the letters of the alphabet out loud.  He made Niko count backwards by seven.  When the tests were over, Niko’s head hurt even more.  His stomach was in knots.  He didn’t know whether he or the doctor was more stupid.