Dichotomy (aka where are the multi-theistic Democrats?)

Dichotomy - Noun.  ( pl. -mies) [usu. in sing. ]1. a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different: a rigid dichotomy between science and mysticism.

When you buy an RV and decide to travel the country, little do you know that you are faced with a choice.  Actually, you don't even know the choice is there.  You are too busy learning about electrical systems, water systems, sewer systems, and climate systems.  All the intricate systems that make your little house on wheels a home.  You are learning how to tow, how to back up, how to "level your rig."  All this knowledge is essential so that you don't freeze, poison yourself, crash, or roll your "rig" into a river.  No, you don't even know you are about to be faced with a monumental decision, but it is there.  You face a dichotomy.

While I might make the difficulty of becoming RV savvy out to be more difficult than it is, rest assured that unless you are indoctrinated into the shady undertree of the RV world by a grizzled veteran, you don't even know this choice exists.  Of what do I speak, you ask?  Well folks, I am going to let you in on a little secret here and hopefully the RV overlords won't arrange for site number 8 to have a friendly visit tonight, after I reveal the goods.  You see, we have both private RV "campgrounds" and public (read city, state, or federal parks) campgrounds in this little ole world of ours and which one you choose says volumes.

Private campgrounds look a little something like this.  They are RV focused private "parks" catering to folks who own rigs that cost more than the first four cars I owned in my life combined.  To take a page from the Trailer Life Directory, (which is billed as "The Directory America turns to for RV Parks & Campgrounds" and no, don't blame that abusive capitalization on me) a private RV campground looks something like this: "Good gravel interior rds. No tents.  SITES 29 gravel, some shaded, 15 pull-thrus (23x70), back-ins (24x50), 29 full hookups (30/50 amps). REC Pond, freshwater fishing, rec hall."

Now, what the heck does that mean?  Well, it means you can take your huge, 50 foot rig (you gotta use that word "rig" constantly in this game) and drive it right through onto a flat, level, concrete pad that just so happens to permit you to have water, sewer dump, and enough electrical to power both of your flat screen TVs.  Oh, and with the trusty "no tents" you can be assured you won't be dealing with any of those obnoxious, noisy folks who choose to sleep OUTSIDE (okay, that capitalization is mine).  In short, this is a site for "campers" who don't like to be outside.  They have a perfect little campsite with a picnic table, a fire pit, and manicured lawn, and every rig is lit up by the blue glow of the TV at night, while its occupants are lulled to sleep by the hum of their Carrier Climate Control System (note - capitals are getting out of hand).  

Now don't get me wrong, there are times when these RV campgrounds are the bee's knees (and we thank to good people at Trailer Life for pointing them out to us).  Let's face it, clean laundry is a good thing every now and then.  Showers too.  And the pools and playgrounds can be nice.  Yet ultimately one must realize, you are "camping" in a parking lot.  A beautiful, manicured, security controlled, amenity rich parking lot.  And to make sure your are staying in exactly the right park, Trailer Life even rates them on a complex three category rating system (which includes stars) for you.  If the park has all the above amenities, it will rate high.  However, if you are going to choose these places, you better be planning on traveling somewhere else during the day to see and do things.

To top it all off, these campgrounds often come with another feature.  50-60 year old conservative, evangelical white couples with small dogs, who preach the gospel and potentially believe that you might be on the road to eternal damnation should you not attend the campground endorsed service on Sunday.  While a bit wordy, the previous sentence accurately describes this prevalent demographic, to which I clearly do not belong.  While these folks are certainly very kind and I do respect their beliefs, I belong to a slightly different demographic, the 30-35ish moderate to liberal multi-theistic buddhist leaning white young family with large dog looking to see the world and hope that it is still around in a recognizable form for my child demographic.  I also like to go outside when I am camping, even if I am "camping" in an RV.  I use "camping" in quotes in this context for all my old dirtbag climbing buddies who are laughing their asses off at me for even using the words camping and recreational vehicle in the same sentence.

If you want to find more of my type demographic and less of the previous, you have got to angle for the public campground entries in Trailer Life,  which look a little forlorn, lacking capitals and such, and would read a little something like this: "Good interior roads, 67 tent sites, mostly shaded, 6 pull throughs.  14 day max stay.  Some sites water and electrical.  Dump station.  Pay phone."  To the true big rig enthusiast, this entry reads: "Good Luck."  Other things these campgrounds often seem to have are hiking trails, bodies of water, historical sites, recreation, national parks, and Democrats.

We learned of this dichotomy the hard way, when after a long string of nights in a couple of private campgrounds we started to sweat, get grumpy, feel a bit claustrophobic, and speak in tongues.  While both types of campgrounds can serve you well when needed, choose wisely and remember that nary the two shall meet.