I spent a few summers working at an all boys camp in New York. It was a great job, but spending that much time surrounded by 12-year-old boys can be extremely tiring. It is because of this that after putting their campers to sleep, counselors convene each night at a local bar so to drink, break things, and let out all of the bottled-up frustrations that come with working with kids.

After a grueling workout at the bar one night, I stumbled back to my cabin hoping to fall face down on my bed and drift off to a comfortable sleep (or at least pass out). Breakfast was at 8:00 and it was already 2:00. I knew I was in store for a rough one.

Not more then 30 seconds after my head hit my pillow, I felt someone tapping my shoulder. I sprung up from my bed and found one of my campers, Evan, standing over my bed. I asked him what he needed as I swung my legs around the side of my bed in a feeble attempt to make the cabin stop spinning.

"My windows are rattling," Evan whispered.

Each bunk has two small windows that slide open and shut. The windows, having been made before World War II (and made poorly at that), were all too small for their frames. When the slightest breeze hits them, they gently rattle back and forth, emitting a sound much like someone repeatedly tapping their fingers on a desk.

I got up and walked to Evan's bunk to see what I could do to fix the problem. I tried opening the windows, I tried closing the windows. I even tried removing the windows. Nothing worked. Then I was hit with an epiphany. I opened up my trunk and took out a pair of socks. I went back to Evan's bed and wedged a sock between the window and the frame of

both

both windows. I held my breath and listened. It worked, not a sound was coming from his bunk. Relieved, I said goodnight to Evan, and stumbled back into my bed. It was nearly 2:20.

As I was drifting off to a wonderful, spin-free sleep, another tap on my shoulder awoke me. I sprung from bed, this time completely oblivious to my surroundings. I fell out of my bed and onto the floor. Looking up I saw Evan standing above me yet again. Composing myself, I said, “What’s wrong now Evan?"

"It's not just my windows it's everyone's."

I pulled myself up and gazed around the cabin. Seven campers and two Junior Leaders = nine bunks = eighteen windows. I opened my trunk, took out all of my socks and got to work.

I spent the next hour crawling over sleeping people in the dark, attempting to stuff socks in their windows. The fact that I was three sheets to the wind didn't help either. I began discreetly, reaching over the people asleep in their bunks, but after completing only three windows in fifteen minutes I decided to screw discretion and just finish fixing the goddamned windows. A half hour later, after I had finished stuffing socks in all the windows and waking up pretty much everyone in the cabin, I went to make sure that Evan was okay. (God forbid anything else should keep that kid from getting any fucking sleep.) I found Evan sound asleep in his bunk, looking as though he had been there for a while.

The boys awoke to a nice surprise -- dirty sweat socks drooping down in their faces. I awoke with a raging hangover, but Evan looked very well rested.