Overflow is like being in-between. Suffer now for salvation later. There are some people though, that seem to like to suffer. Or maybe it’s all about what one person calls sufferring. Maybe they’re living a great life and we are totally misreading their situation. There is great diversity in this world and we don’t know how others think – their backstories, upbringing, experiences, thought processes, decision making, likes and dislikes.
Everyday we go to the check in center at 5pm to see if we’ve moved up on the list to get out of the in-between and into the promised land of full hook-up. We’ve been dry camping for four days and while we’ve figured out how to live here, it’s not that bad, but not that great either. It’s in-between.
As we look around at our neighbors, we’ve realized that many of them are not trying to get out of overflow. Like our curious vanner above, who’s towing a gypsy house with a styrofoam canoe on the roof. The door stays open, with a green translucent shower curtain pulled for privacy. Pikachu is suspended on the boat tie down while a small dog is tied to a plastic step. There’s a cruiser bike that hasn’t moved and on the right side of the house is the fully stocked outdoor greasy spoon with hot plates, pots and propane tanks. There’s a rusted out Chevy outfitted with double doors leading to sleeping quarters. It does not appear that she is on the waiting list. We know she is tied to the military – you have to be to stay here. Did she serve? Is she a widow or Mom sponsored by her active duty child or brother? Did she build that house herself? Where did she get that canoe and where does she launch it? How long has she been here? Is it her full time home or vacation getaway? We don’t wonder this as much with the half million dollar Tiffans towing decked out Jeeps. It’s the unusual that makes us go hmmmm.
This is the neighbor to our left – a 60s Air-Stream, missing most of it’s windows and random junk piled to the ceiling. The broken door is always open, propped by a salvage tire. Only one of the two identical Lexus in the site moves, driven by a morbidly obese mustached man in an untucked plaid shirt with khakis and black Reeboks. His neighbor with the awning has a superclean vintage Fleetwood Flair like Betty, but rigged for overflow with solar panels and satellite TV. He visits neighbors extolling the virtues of solar. Neither seems to be on the waitlist as they are all settled in.
This is the neighbor to our right – a late model Ford F-150, driven by the khaki clad man sitting in the folding chair wearing headphones and watching a TV through an inverter running off the car battery. He usually sits the passenger seat or the driver’s seat, but today he sat outside. He’s built a platform in the bed, for his bed. A Coleman stove sits on the picnic table. He spoke to us today, to let us know about the air show this weekend and comment that there was a bottle of water and tennis ball under our picnic table then went back to his business of sitting. You met his neighbor, Mr. Generator. He’s got a broken hitch so he won’t be moving either.
Meanwhile, between our curious neighbor-watching, we are in and out of overflow. Dennis replaced the burner on the fridge so our repairs with Carl’s RV are done. We filled up with propane, dumped and gave Betty a bath before a trip through the commissary for supplies and an hour swim at the base pool. We’re now number 12 on the waitlist using the lightning fast wifi in the community center compared to no-bar life in a remote corner of overflow.
We’ve been in awe of the 45 foot tandem axel, $750,000 rig we pull up next to in Hilton Head or Coronado. In Davis-Monthan overflow, we are equality engaged by life at the other end of the fancy spectrum. RV parks pack incredible diversity into one location. That’s one of the reasons they are so much fun to visit. You can easily spend an evening biking around taking in the sights while giving your neighbors a wave and a hello. Unlike your home, if you really get bothered by a neighbor, pull the jacks up and roll on.