                 NATURE'S WAY OF PROMOTING THE MOTEL INDUSTRY
                by Dave Barry, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist


          Nature is  located  mainly  in  national  parks,  which are vast
     tracts of wilderness  that  have  been set aside by the United States
     Government so citizens will  always  have  someplace to go where they
     can be attacked by bears.

          And we're not talking about  ordinary  civilian  bears,  either:
     We're talking about federal bears, which can behave however they want
     to because they are protected by the  same  union  as  postal clerks.
     They can wander up to your campsite and  help themselves to your food
     and your American Express Travelers Cheques, and there's nothing  you
     can do about it.  If you attempt to prosecute,  they'll  just  get  a
     slick,  fast-talking  raccoon  lawyer  and  be back out on the street
     within hours.

          Selecting the proper  campsite  can  mean the difference between
     survival and death in  the  wilderness, so you, the woodsperson, must
     always scrutinize the terrain carefully  to  make sure it can provide
     you with the basic necessities, the main one being a metal thing that
     sticks out of the ground where you  hook  up  the  air conditioner on
     your  recreational  vehicle,  which  has been the preferred  mode  of
     camping in America ever since the early pioneers traveled westward in
     primitive, oxen-drawn Winnebagos.

          Of course  there  are some thoughtful, environmentally sensitive
     ecology nuts who  prefer  to camp in tents, which are fine except for
     four things:

          1.  All tent-erection  instructions  are written by the Internal
     Revenue Service ("Insert ferrule post  into  whippet  grommet,  or 23
     percent  of  your  gross deductible adjustables,  whichever  is  more
     difficult.").

          2.  It always rains on tents.   Rainstorms will travel thousands
     of miles against the prevailing winds for the  opportunity to rain on
     a tent, which is bad because:

          3.    Tents  contain mildews, which are tiny one-celled  animals
     that  are  activated  by  moisture  and  immediately start committing
     one-celled acts  of  flatulence,  so  that before long it smells like
     you're sleeping in a giant unwashed gym sock.

          4.  Tents are highly attractive to bears.  When bears are young,
     their parents give them,  as a treat, little camper-shaped candies in
     little tent wrappers.

          So I'm recommending a major  recreational vehicle, the kind that
     has a VCR-equipped recreation room and  consumes  the  annual  energy
     output  of  Syria merely to operate the  windshield  wipers.    Other
     wilderness survival equipment you should always take along  includes:
     
     >  A hatchet, in case you need to fix  the  VCR.    
     >Cheez-Its.    
     >A flashlight last used in 1973, with  what  appears to be penicillin
     mold growing on the batteries.

          There are so many fun things for  a family to do together in the
     wilderness that I hardly know where to start.    One proven barrel of
     wilderness laughs is to try to identify specific kinds  of  trees  by
     looking  at  the  bark,  leaves, federal identification plaques, etc.
     This activity  is  bound to provide many seconds of enjoyment for the
     youngsters.  Later  on,  you  can  play Survival Adventure, where the
     children, using only a compass and a map, must try to figure out what
     city you have driven to.

        But  the  greatest camping fun  comes  at  night,  when  everybody
     gathers round the campfire and sings  campfire  songs.    Some of our
     "old family favorites" include:

                       I'VE BEEN WORKIN' ON THE RAILROAD
                    *Oh, I've been workin' on the railroad,
                           With a banjo on my knee, 
                      We  will kill the old red rooster 
                       We will kill the old red rooster 
                     We will kill  the  old  red  rooster 
                      And you better not get in our way.*

                                CAMPTOWN RACES
                       *Camptown ladies sing this song:
                               Doo-dah, doo-dah
                        Camptown ladies been off their 
                                  medication
                         And they are none to fond of 
                         The old red rooster, either.*

          After the singing, it's time to prepare the children for bedtime
     by  telling  them  a  traditional  campfire  story.    To qualify  as
     traditional,  the  story  has  to adhere to the following guidelines,
     established by the National Park Service:

          1.  It has to begin Many Years Ago when some people camped Right
     In This Very Forest on a night Exactly Like Tonight.

          2.  People  warned  them  not  to  camp  here,  but they paid no
     attention.

          3.  People said,  "I  wouldn't  go  back in there if I were you!
     That's the lair o the  (select  one):    
     
     a.    Snake  Man!" 
     b.    Swamp Devil!" 
     c.    Giant Radioactive Meat-Eating Box Turtle of Death!"

          4.  But the campers just laughed.

          5.  "Ha ha!" were their exact words.

          6.   Until they found little  Jennifer's  gall  bladder  on  the
     hibachi.

          And  so  on.  You should tell  this  story  in  a  soft,  almost
     hypnotic voice, lulling the children into a trancelike state in which
     they are aware of nothing except the story and  the  terror  and  the
     still, sinister darkness all around them and

                                 OMIGOD
                                 HERE IT
                                  COMES

          And then it's time for everybody to "call it a night" and climb,
     all five of you, into the sleeping bag with Grandma or Mom.
