The summer I was 14, my Mom sent me off to Texas to stay with my Great-Aunt and -Uncle. Their daughter was a year older than me, so our family decided that we got along wonderfully and should spend more time together.
The year before, my Great Uncle had the brilliant plan of bribing good grades out of us... If Alana and I could get straight A's, he would take us to Disneyworld! Which wasn't quite the thrill it would have been when I was eight, but you take what you get.
Now, I know I got a perfect report card, but I dunno about Alana. I didn't see proof of worthiness, and now that I think of it I'm pretty sure she was riding my coattails to Disneyworld.
Since we would be driving in a camper from Texas to Florida, Alana and I agreed to put the past behind us and work together in the spirit of unity, blah blah blah, complete bullshit, and so on. The subtext of which was, Hey, I'm a teeeeenager now, I'm too mature to brawl with my cousin, and also I can outcool you with my eyes closed.
In the days leading up to the road trip, Alana and I were testing out the 'cool' waters - my pose is cooler than hers, she flips her hair like a pro, I can grunt dismissively far better, but she's old
enough to drive - goddammit! She won.
The day before we left was, as luck would have it, Friday the 13th, and some cable station ran every single Jason movie... Which was up to eight at the time. Being ultracool teenagers, we stayed up to watch them all, and a good time was had. I actually credit this marathon for my ensuing love of cheesy horror flicks. We spent the night laughing at the stupid campers and yelling at the blond bimbos for wearing high heels to the woods and all that fun horror movie stuff.
Getting to sleep at 3am afterwards was only a little difficult. I only checked out the first five odd
noises.
The next day dawned bright and far too fucking early. We had the RV loaded up and ready to go by eight, and Alana and I spent the Mid-Texas to Louisiana stretch sleeping on the lumpy couches.
Late that night, somewhere between Texas and Florida (probably Georgia), Great-Uncle Jim pulled off the interstate to find a campground. A large, poorly lit sign welcomed us to the Crystal Lake campgrounds, while Alana and I stared at it, stared at each other, and chuckled weakly. We huddled together in the safest place in the RV - the bed above the cab, which afforded a view in three whole directions - until Aunt Nita and Uncle Jim kicked us out of the cushy bed. Then we huddled together on the crappy bed and stared out the window all night.
Our parking spot gave us a wonderful view of the 'lake'... a dirty cow pond with a sad little island in it's center. And yes, there was a tiny, broken down structure on that island. I think they put it there on purpose.
Looking back, that big guy hulking around all night was obviously a security guard, but I spent hours worried about my imminent gory death at the hand of an unstoppable monster, and reviewing all the no-nos I learned from the movies.
Inappropriate clothing - nope! Taking a shower - nope! Premarital hanky panky - n...oh shit. Does playing doctor with the dirty little boy down the street count? I was only four! I'ma gonna die!
After the big hulking guy passed us by the third time, I decided that playing doctor probably didn't count, so I was safe. Then I realized how selfish I was being, and turned my thoughts to Alana's probable demise. If even one of her 'cooler than thou' stories were true, Jason was going to bust through that window any minute... So I moved away from the window.
After what felt like years of waiting, sure enough, a shadow appeared in the window. It grew and grew, until I squinched my eyes shut and tightened into my fetal position. At Alana's squeak, I opened my eyes though... no way I was going to miss this.
The shadow was gone from the window, and our eyes met. I could see the total fear om Alana's face as we heard crunching footsteps, moving towards the door of the RV. Silence. More silence. Then THUMP on the door.
Our shrieks sounded in perfect harmony.
Great-Uncle Jim and Great-Aunt Nita jerked out of sleep, Uncle Jim falling most of the way out of bed, groping for his gun, Aunt Nita joining in the shriek-fest. Alana and I were pointing at the door, still a bit screamy, and I think I actually said "Jason!" once or twice.
That poor security guard. The door was flung open by an angry and scared older gentleman in boxers with a gun, and the guard's uniform was probably the only thing to save him from instant death.
After a few minutes of babble, Uncle Jim stopped pointing his gun at the scruffy guard, and asked in a fairly reasonable tone what the man wanted. Stammering a bit, the guard explained that he had seen people peeking out the window blinds all night, and ducking away every time he came near the RV. Suspicious behavior, in other words.
All eyes turned to us poor, hysterical girls... Even the eyes of the curious fellow campers, who had come out to see what all the fuss was. We mumbled our way through it, something about Jason and the lake and the hulking death machine. Apparently we were clear enough, our fellow campers got a good laugh out of it. The security guard might have thought it was funny too, except for the gun in his face.
Only by virtue of not being his child did I not get my ass beaten by Uncle Jim, and Alana escaped only because I was there. Another thing she was riding my coattails on... She owes me one.
