~ Stormsborough Campgrounds, Vanhoover — November 7-14, 995 ~
First of all, what kind of name is that for a campground? Stormsborough. That's terrifying.
Why, you may be wondering, was I staying in Stormsborough Campground? What kind of accommodations was I being denied by the malevolent Equestrian government in order to have to resort to such a pathetic state of affairs?
I was there on vacation, actually.
Yes, we bureaucrats can have fun. Unfathomable, I know. I assure you it's an excessively rare occurrence.
And no, I wasn't there alone. I was there with several friends.
Yes, I have those, too! My, this review must be full of revelations for you dear readers!
True to its name, my first two days at Stormsborough were a rainy and stormy mess. A lot of ponies don't realize this, but the weather teams like to divert storm clouds to National Parks in order to simply get rid of them, similar to how the purpose of those giant smokestacks in mining towns are just to make the pollution somepony else's problem. So, if you're wondering why every time your vacation is ruined by the weather, I recommend an angry letter to the Cloudsdale Weather Factory.
Finally, on the third day, the weather let up and we were allowed to leave the squabbling shelter of our little camper wagon and venture into the wilderness lining the outskirts of the great city of Vanhoover.
And yes, the water is blue. It is very, very blue. Rest assured, if you're looking for blue water, you'll find the bluest water in all of Equestria.
If you're looking for anything else besides blue water, you'll be a little disappointed. Because the only other subjects of note I can recall are mosquitoes, more rain, and the excessively whiny complaints of my accompaniment.
...Oh, and the Stormsborough Park Ranger.
I remember that bastard well.
For obvious reasons, I won't provide any explicit details. For the sake of this review, I'll simply refer to him by a faux name. Let's call him Ranger Jasper.
Anypony who has ever stayed at a national park probably has encountered a Ranger Jasper. You know the type of pony I'm talking about. Ranger Jasper thinks he's a drug-busting cop in Detrot. Ranger Jasper thinks your tiny campfire is a roaring flame of apocalypse, and the soft tunes that a friend is strumming on an acoustic guitar are the horns of Tirek's minions themselves.
We were basically alone in the park, which was to be expected given the week of rain and the fact that it was November, and nonetheless we received 'noise-complaints' and were barred from talking outside past sundown. We were thusly presented two choices: standing outside in perfect silence by our campfire, or within our camper in order to actually be able to enjoy each other's presence.
I suspect Ranger Jasper was hiding in the trees watching us the entire time, just waiting for one of us to slip up one tiny code of regulation so that he could leap out and scold us for it.
I took a vacation into the wilderness to get away from that sort of disciplinary code, so thank you for assuring me that it encompasses our great wilderness as well, Ranger Jasper.
★★ - Published in the Canterlot Herald, Issue 146