It was a hot summer night. The van was completely opened up to catch any breeze passing through the canyon. Every window in the pop-up was open. The windows, slider door, back hatch were open. I even opened the two front doors in a V-shape to funnel the cooler nighttime air through our sleeping area. Carlos was panting heavily while sleeping after enduring a day of record breaking heat. I was naked.
As the half moon night cooled down, I was woken by a strange sound rounding the van. A raccoon? A deer? Big Foot? My towel hanging from the tree outside?
Can I come in?
Yowww- creepy! What was that? I fumbled to put my pants on, scrambled for the flashlight, and half naked pulled the front doors closed.
Can I come in?
That raspy old lady voice taunted me again from the window above Carlos’ bed. I slammed the slider closed and flashed my light on the campsite surrounding the van.
No raccoon. No deer. No Big Foot. No towel flapping in the breeze.
But that raspy old lady voice, Can I come in?, haunted me all night.
I couldn’t wait to tell Hali in the morning because this was something I could not have possibly made up on this hot summer night. And she believed me. There was a big pee spot on the backside of my jeans. And we had ran out of beer two days earlier.
I hung my jeans on the clothesline to dry, put them on, zipper facing front, and searched for big footprints surrounding the van. None. Only little old lady footprints.