escape clause

And I quote:

"Absolutely no alcoholic beverages are allowed on Girl Scout property. The rule for smoking is that the girls should never see anyone smoking. If you cannot go 24 hours without smoking, please do so in the privacy of your car using your car's ashtray. Violation of these two rules will get you sent home immediately."

Hot damn and hallelujah: the Mother/Daughter Olympiad Campout has an escape clause! Not that I smoke, but I'm sure I can bum one, and my brother has already promised use of his special camping flask. I'm set, and I don't have to be ready 'til Friday: talk about "Be Prepared!" But I suppose that slogan belongs to the Boys. If only my child came equipped with a Y chromosome, I could easily avoid all the Scouting for that group's hateful politics. In the meantime perhaps I'll make a Free Tibet t-shirt and see if that's enough to get bounced from this Spring scouting Olympics. It would be selfless, really: 47 women are waiting for my place.

I really can't imagine. I'm doing it because the girl wants to, because I've been gone, because I'm the mom. It will definitely be a story, maybe it will be fun. Maybe Mullet Woman, the leader, won't get on my very last nerve. Maybe Iceland, our assigned spring olympiad nation (I think the whole thing's rigged) will kick some Girl Scout butt. Or, you know, maybe I'll go back to New York. This just isn't my crowd, at least not for 20 hours. I just can't get my head around any activity for 150 mothers and daughters that advises labeling one's clothes because "you'd be amazed how many pairs of underwear get left behind." I'm sorry, I don't know about anyone else, but if I somehow become separated from my panties in such circumstances, I don't really want them back.